


may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely)

by shamelessly_mkp



Series: The FabFather [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, everything is better with the mob!prefix, terrible terrible AUs, true love!!11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-23
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 23,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessly_mkp/pseuds/shamelessly_mkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Kurt Hummel knows all about the Andersons. He knows all about his boyfriend's future as a mob!boss. He doesn't care.</p><p>Maybe he should. Blaine's mother decides to make sure Kurt really has all of the facts.</p><p>TEASER: “Do you really think you can handle being an Anderson? Do you even understand what that means? “My son, my daughter, my husband — they were born into this. This is their birthright. This life? It’s all they’ve ever known. “You seem to be a nice boy, Kurt, and Blaine certainly seems enamored enough of you, but are you really certain you love my son enough to marry into the mob? Are you willing to give up being Kurt Hummel and become Kurt Anderson? “Because if the answer to that is no, then it’s better for you to realize that now. It’ll hurt less in the long run, for both of you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES/WARNINGS: This story is part of a larger AU; as you already know ( :P ) other stories in this universe are available at the_fabfather. Here be differently-characterized characters [this universe was born during s2 hiatus], dubious realism, some kink that came out of nowhere, and an overabundance of commas, em-dashes, and italics. Apologies in advance.

may I have the freedom to choose 

(and all the information to choose wisely):  

a mob!story

***

The house smelled like bleach. That was the first thing Carole noticed when Burt unlocked the door.    


  


She was going to jokingly ask Burt if he could instill the same sort of cleaning ethic in Finn, because it could only be Kurt scrubbing things with bleach, but the joke died on her lips at the worried look on his face. He pushed forward into the house, not saying anything, and Carole followed, absently closing the door behind her.

Kurt was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. That wouldn’t have worried Carole — Kurt liked things to be clean and he was very used to doing all the household chores himself. But Kurt was still dressed in the same designer outfit he’d worn to school, with the sleeves carelessly pushed up.  And the floor was gleaming. Carole hadn’t even known you could  get a floor that white. And Kurt was still scrubbing.

“Kid,” Burt said gently — that was what Carole loved most about this man, that he combined such great strength with such loving gentleness — “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Kurt said, never looking up from the floor.

Burt frowned, crouching down to Kurt’s level. Carole could see his forehead crease in worry. “Kurt, I know you, and this? This ain’t something you do over nothing.”

“The floor was dirty. It needed to be cleaned.”

“Yeah, well, I think you managed that,” Burt said dryly. “And then some. So why aren’t you stopping?”

“God, Dad, I’m just cleaning,” Kurt snapped. “Heaven forbid I want our house to be  clean for once.”

Carole was hurt, although she didn’t say anything. There was clearly more going on here than Kurt’s lack of faith in her cleaning abilities.

“Kid, the only time you get this focused on scrubbing things is when something’s not right. So tell me, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Kurt said again, loudly. “Can you leave me alone now? I’m busy.”

Carole suddenly remembered something. “Sweetheart, you had tea with Blaine’s mother again today, didn’t you? Did something—”

“Nothing happened!” Kurt yelled, throwing his scrub brush to the floor. “Just fucking leave it already!”

“Hey!” Burt raised his voice. “You do  not talk to Carole like that. You don’t talk to  anybody like that, you hear me?”

Kurt’s face twisted with indescribable emotions and then he was refusing to look at them again, just scrubbing the floor like that would solve world hunger.

Burt stood up. “That’s it,” he said loudly. “I’m calling those Andersons and giving that woman a piece of my mind. Every week, you go have tea with this woman and you come home quiet and pale and not yourself, and I’ve let it go, because I know how important Blaine is to you, and she’s his mother and all, but this? This is not okay, Kurt. I am not letting someone —  anyone — do this to my kid.” He turned to get to the landline, but Kurt rushed to his feet with a speed Carole hadn’t known he was capable of and interjected his body between Burt and the phone.

“No,” Kurt said desperately. “Don’t! It’s fine, I promise, I was just upset but it’s  fine , please don’t—”

Burt rubbed his face in frustration. “What should I do, then? Kid, I haven’t seen you do this in  years .  Can you get why this scares me a little?”

“I know, I know,” Kurt said quickly, and now that he was facing them, Carole could tell that he’d been crying earlier — for quite a while, too, by the looks of it — “But really I’m fine. It’s just been a bad day and everything’ll be okay tomorrow, I promise. Just let me clean tonight and everything will be fine.”

Burt looked like he wanted to say something —hell, Carole wanted him to say something — but instead he sighed in defeat. “All right,” he said. “I know when I’m beat. Just … get some sleep at some point.  Okay, kid? Humor your old man.”

Kurt nodded frantically and practically pushed them both out of the room. “I will,” he said. “I promise.” They all knew he had no intention of keeping that promise, but they pretended. Carole wasn’t quite sure why, since as Burt pulled her further down the hallway she could still see Kurt, and all she wanted to do was to hold him while he cried and then tear apart whatever or whoever had made him feel this way.

“You better not just be letting this go, Burt Hummel,” Carole said to her husband in an angry whisper.

“I’m not,” Burt said grimly. “I’m gonna go talk to those Andersons. Not on the phone; in person. I just didn’t want to upset Kurt any more than he already is.” Carole glanced back at the kitchen.  

She nodded. “I can understand that. Won’t Kurt miss you, though? Wonder where you are?”

Burt shook his head. “No,” he said shortly, “He’s not going to be noticing anything for a while.” He paused a moment. “Get Finn to track mud in the house, will you? Give Kurt something to clean.”

Carole frowned. “I thought we didn’t  want him cleaning.”

“Yeah,” Burt said, “But without actual dirt to scrub off, he’ll just keep going till his hands are raw and even then it’s even odds whether he’ll stop or not. I told you, he’s done this before.”

Carole straightened Burt’s collar nervously. “I’m a little scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know how to help him. Finn — he has his problems, but he’s so much more  straightforward about it all.”

Burt covered her hand with his. “It scares me too,” he said quietly. “His mother — she was so good with him. She always knew what to say, what to do. I just have to take shots in the dark and hope like hell I don’t screw him up too bad.” He cleared his throat. Carole knew that talking about his dead wife hurt, just like any mention of Finn’s father hurt her. It was hard. It would always be hard.

“You’re good with him too, you know,” Carole said. “And if she were still here, I bet you she’d tell you the same thing. You’re a wonderful father, Burt.” She gave him a half-smile. “It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

Burt kissed her cheek. “I love you,” he said.  

“Go,” Carole ordered. She wished she could go too, but someone needed to stay, and even if she loved Kurt like a son, Burt was still his father and she was just ( just? ) his stepmother. “Kick some ass.”  


[PART TWO](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/27412.html)  



	2. Chapter 2

Kurt was cleaning. He wasn't exactly sure what he was cleaning, or how long he had been cleaning it, but from the pain in his knees and his fingers, it was probably the kitchen floor, and it had probably been for at least the better part of an hour. Not that he had any plans on stopping, no matter how long it had been. 

He knew he should stop, he knew that him spinning into a cleaning frenzy meant that he needed to take a step back, breathe, and possibly cry on his dad's shoulder. But he couldn't. He was already weak enough, according to Blaine's mother. Not that she would find out that he had a breakdown in his dad's arms if he chose to, but still. He would know, and that would be bad enough.

It was all her damn fault, anyways. She had brought him in under the guise of their normal lesson: Part shooting range, part Anderson family history lesson, and part business. Instead of sticking to the tried and true, however, Melissa had thrown him a curve ball.

She had pulled up a slide show, and proceeded to walk him through it. Kurt would've been fine if it had been a photo-montage of Blaine as a child, if it had been pictures of all the places they had associates located, but it wasn't. Instead, he had sat through twenty three pictures of people who had clearly been shot, stabbed, or in some way assassinated.

"Do you know what these photos all have in common, Kurt?" She had asked as she finished describing what exactly had happened to the victim in the last photo. At the shake of his head, she nodded, as if she’d expected it. "They're all of people who were killed while attempting to take out the current head of the Anderson family...And they were all killed by that head of the family's wife. That last one was my handiwork, actually," she added, an indefinable emotion flashing briefly across her face.

Kurt had blinked at her wordlessly, feeling his stomach turn. He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Blaine's family killed people on occasion. He had known that Blaine himself was going to do it, if he hadn't already. Somehow, that knowledge had never lent itself to imagining himself behind the trigger. Seeing his face, Melissa had narrowed her eyes at him and asked "What did you think, Kurt? That Blaine was going to go out and do all of the dirty work while you sat around and planned luncheons? Hardly. You are the last line of defense between him and the outside world, and if that includes killing someone, you'd better be ready to step up and take care of business, because no one else will do it for you."

"I...I can't just kill someone, “Kurt had said, trying to keep his voice steady. "What if they have a family? What if they're messed up in the head or something?"

"Do you really think they're going to spare you the same consideration? Or Blaine, for that matter? Or what about that new baby girl you two bring home from the adoption agency ten years from now? Do you think some lunatic with a gun is really going to pause and reevaluate his choices because you have a family?" She asked, scoffing loudly. "No. He won't. And in the time it takes you to decide whether or not it's morally corrupt for you to shoot him, your whole family will be dead. Including you." She had shaken her head at him, walking over to the windows that faced out towards the street and turning her back on him. “We're done here, unless you've managed to grow a spine in the past two minutes and are ready to finish this lesson."

Kurt unconsciously shook his head, standing up and putting on his jacket quickly, not even registering as his feet carried him to the door. Pausing before he left, he turned to glare at Melissa's back. "You know, I may be weak in your eyes just because I can't imagine being able to take someone's life, but that doesn't mean I can't protect what's mine. It just means that, unlike you, I still have empathy for other people, and that I'm not going to end up just another heartless bitch with a gun."

He didn't remember anything about the drive home, or coming in the house, or how long he had been cleaning before his dad and Carole had come home, only the mixture of rage and fear that had been burning through his blood and had led to him scrubbing the floors until his fingers were raw. He was pretty sure his phone had gone off more than once, and that Finn had been purposefully stomping through the house in his muddy sneakers just to give him something to clean, but he couldn't be sure. 

That was why the hand on his shoulder caught him by such surprise. "Dad, I swear, I'm going to bed soon, just let it go, alright?" He had asked, not looking up from the floor. He wasn't positive that it was night, but he figured it was a safe bet to make.

"That'd be great, if it weren't four in the morning and you weren't lying through your teeth," Blaine said softly, kneeling down next to him. "I called you when I got done with Dad; I thought you might wanna grab dinner. You didn't call me back, and it'd been a few hours, so I talked to Finn—he said it might just be better if I came over and saw for myself. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Nothing's going on, this house is just a fucking mess that no one else seems to be able to clean, and I got tired of it, so here I am. You can go now," Kurt snapped, trying to avoid looking Blaine in the eye.

“Again, you’re lying through your teeth,” Blaine said. “I thought we said we would always be honest with each other.”

“Nothing is going on, Blaine.” 

“Kurt—” Blaine sighed. “Right now, I honestly don’t even care what you’re lying about or why you’re lying to me. I care that it looks like you've cleaned the whole house top to bottom at least twice, though." He took one of Kurt's hands, whistling softly at how raw the skin was around his nails. “This floor is so clean that you could eat off of it, so I think you’ll be fine taking a break to talk to me.”

"No, Blaine, I won’t. I have stuff that I still need to clean, and you're not helping, so if you would kindly just go the fuck away and let me clean, that'd be great. I'll see you at school." Kurt said, yanking his hand away and plunging it in the bucket of cleaning mixture next to him, pulling out a brush and beginning to scrub at the tile floor again.

Blaine frowned, pulling back slightly and looking at Kurt closely. "Fine. I'll see you in a few hours." He said stiffly, kissing Kurt on the cheek before standing up and heading to the door. Looking over his shoulder, he realized that his boyfriend didn't even seem to notice he had gone. Sighing softly, he pulled out his phone, sending a text to his father before walking to the Hummel-Hudson living room and sinking down on to the couch. If he was going to spend the rest of his night worried about Kurt, he was at least going to do it from the next room over.


	3. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART THREE

[PART TWO](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/27412.html)  


Finn couldn't sleep. Kurt was, like, going crazy or something. He'd been scrubbing the kitchen floor for  hours and mom had  told  Finn to make a mess, like, on  purpose , and Burt had gone somewhere to do  something but mom wouldn't tell Finn where or what was going on and Kurt, like, didn't seem to know Finn was  there . And now Kurt's  boyfriend was here and Finn still wasn't sure how he felt about Blaine in general (he did like football, but he also really liked weird things like Kurt did) much less how he felt about Blaine being Kurt's  boyfriend (Finn's like, his big brother now. He's supposed to look out for Kurt. And everyone knows teenage boys are only after one thing, right? And plus, Finn had seen Kurt cry over stupid Blaine before, so clearly it was a real danger that Blaine would make him cry again.), but Finn had been sure Blaine would be able to fix this, whatever it was.

Finn had  known that Blaine would be able to take one look at Kurt, know what was wrong, and  fix it so Kurt was okay again.

But it hadn't worked.

And now Kurt was still scrubbing the freakin' kitchen floor, and Kurt's boyfriend was sitting on their living room couch looking utterly defeated, like the Buckeyes lost 2-48 or something, and Finn still wasn't sure where Burt had gone and now his mother had disappeared too.

"Hello, Blaine," Finn's mom said from the stairs. At least his mom had reappeared.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson-Hummel," Blaine replied on auto-pilot. "It's lovely to see you again."

Carole gave the boy a sad smile. He looked so  lost . She turned her attention to her own son, who looked like he wanted to break something, or cry, but was too much of a  man to do so. "Finn, sweetheart, go get some sleep," she told him. Finn looked like he was going to protest, and Carole sighed. "I suppose there's not much point to it now," she admitted. She looked at Blaine again. He was so drawn-in upon himself, like he was barely there. Blaine was never as loud of a presence as Kurt, but Carole hadn't realized before just how utterly Blaine took up attention. His presence was quiet and tightly controlled, to be sure, polite and gentlemanly and unassuming, but at the same time, he always seemed in control of the situation. She'd never seen him look like a  boy before.                              

Finn's mother asked Finn to go out and get some coffee ("I know  I  need some coffee, even if you boys don't, and I'm really not sure I can even get at the coffee machine right now."). Finn jumped at the chance to  do something, and was gone within minutes, barely waiting long enough for his mother to coax Blaine's coffee order out of him (drip, black, as large as they make it).

Then Carole and Blaine were alone. The Hudmel house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the kitchen where Kurt was still scrubbing. Carole carefully sat down next to Blaine. She didn't want to intrude on his space, or push him, but he looked so—

Carole couldn't just leave him alone. Not here, where he could  hear  Kurt hurting himself.

She tentatively reached out and touched Blaine's shoulder. His facade of control crumpled, and suddenly Carole had a teenage boy shaking into her shoulder. He wasn't crying, as far as Carole could tell, but he was falling apart all the same. Carole held Blaine close, the way she wanted to be holding Kurt, and murmured comforting nonsense into his hair.

***

  
Blaine wasn't sure what had happened. One second, he was sitting on the couch on the couch listening to Kurt scrub his fingers raw, the next he was sobbing in to Carole's shoulder as she tried to comfort him. As much of a relief as it was to finally get some of what he was feeling out, it didn't feel anywhere near as good as it should have.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to work. He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who made things  right , and yet he was bawling like a baby on Carole's shoulder while his boyfriend fell apart all on his own in the kitchen with no one to comfort him.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do,” he said helplessly, sniffling and wiping at his eyes. "I want to help him, and he won't let me, and I'm...I'm scared...I don't know how to fix this, because he won't even tell me what's wrong." He felt himself start shaking again, automatically curling closer to the warmth Carole provided. 

"You're doing the best you can, Blaine. He's not really telling anyone what's bothering him...," Carole said softly, rubbing his back and frowning deeply. She wished that she had some clue of how things were going with Burt, knowing that being able to tell Blaine that  something  was being done would be able to comfort the teen slightly. Then again, considering that the something that was happening was a lot of yelling, and considering it was happening to his mother, maybe it wouldn't be that helpful. She sighed softly, hugging Blaine tighter and hoping against hope that coffee would fix everything.

***

  
Finn came in from the garage, drink carrier from The Lima Bean clutched in his hands like a lifeline. Coffee would fix things; coffee woke people up, and made them think straight. Maybe once Blaine drank some coffee, he'd know how to fix Kurt. Even better, maybe Kurt would drink some coffee and not need to have Blaine fix him.

He paused as he got to the door between the kitchen and the living room. He wasn't entirely sure, but he was pretty sure he had heard Blaine start crying, and it wasn't cool to just sit around and watch another dude cry, even if he was crying on your mom's shoulder. Besides, this was the first time he had been near Kurt since he had trekked mud through the house the night before.

"You're kind of being a jerk, Kurt," he said suddenly, surprising even himself.

"Don't pretend like you know anything about what's going on, Finn. Actually, don't pretend like you know anything. At all," Kurt snapped, not looking up from where he was cleaning the oven door.

"Dude, I don't know what your problem is, but you can lay off on being a dick to everyone. We're just trying to help you, and you keep biting our heads off!" Finn said, turning away from the door and slamming the coffee carrier down on the counter. "I mean, your dad's probably out torching the whole town with his flamethrower, and my mom's making that face where it looks like she's about to cry but she can't because somebody else is crying, and, oh yeah, that person that's already crying? He's your freaking boyfriend, and he's been sitting on the couch all night hoping that you'd pull your head out of your ass long enough to realize that all any of us want to do is help you!"

"You can't help, Finn!" Kurt said sharply, raising his voice and standing up and getting in his brother's space. "There's nothing you, or Dad, or Carole, or anyone can do, because it's my fucking problem, okay? And Blaine really can't help, because it's his mom's fault, and I'm not about to cause a fight between the two of them, alright? So just shut your big, stupid mouth about it and let me clean until I feel better!"

"It's my mom's fault?" Blaine asked from the door to the living room. He and Carole had run to the kitchen at the sound of Finn and Kurt's raised voices. "What'd she do, Kurt? Did she say something? Is she pushing you too hard, what's going on?" He wiped the last of the tears from his face, walking over to Kurt and looking at him closely. He could handle this, now that he knew what the problem was, he was sure of it.

"It's nothing, Blaine. Just let it go, okay? I'm not trying to start a fight between you and your mom. She already doesn't like me enough as is," Kurt said, looking down at his feet.

"Let it go?" Blaine asked incredulously. "Let it go? Kurt, you have been on your hands and knees for hours. You haven't slept in at least twenty hours, you're snapping at everyone, and you've scrubbed the floors to the point that your hands are bleeding..." He paused, taking a breath to calm himself down, reaching out and taking Kurt's hand lightly. "And you won't talk to me, Kurt...That's the worst part of it all, and if it's because of something my mom said or did to you, then I want to know, because she  will  apologize to you and make things right, no matter what I have to do to make it happen. Nobody gets to hurt you and get away with it, not even her."

“We’re not talking about this, Blaine.”

“Yes, we  are .”

Kurt closed his eyes, shutting the world out, just for a few moments.  “Please, Blaine. Just let it go.”

“I can’t,” Blaine said quietly.  “You know I can’t.”  He paused.  “Look, right now, to be honest with you, I'll just be happy if you stop cleaning, eat something, and get some sleep.  The rest can wait till later.”

Kurt sighed, but stepped forward into his boyfriend’s embrace.  “You’re not going to let it go though, are you?” He asked rhetorically.

“Nope.”

“I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to--not right now.  Just … don’t lie to me.  Okay?  That’s all I want from you right now.  Be honest with me.  And possibly take a shower. All the bleach that you've gotten on you can't be healthy,“ he added, sighing in relief as Kurt snorted quietly into his shoulder.

The worst was over. Well, the worst for Kurt. What was going to happen to Melissa Anderson once her son got home was anyone's guess.

[PART FOUR](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/28181.html)  



	4. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART FOUR

[PART THREE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/28040.html)

  


Kurt vaguely noticed that his hands were starting to really hurt. He ignored the pain, instead burrowing deeper into Blaine's arms. He hadn't meant to tell Blaine about fighting with his mother. He hadn't meant to tell  anyone . But Blaine knew, even if he didn't know the specifics (Kurt so did not want to tell him exactly what had happened; this was bad enough), and Kurt couldn't help but feel a bone-deep relief.

Everything was going to be all right.

He could hear Blaine and Carole talking, with occasional interjections from Finn, but he couldn't seem to focus on the words. It didn't matter anyway. He mechanically ate the crackers Carole gave him, but didn’t taste them. Then Blaine started moving toward the basement and Kurt’s room, and Kurt went with him.

Kurt stumbled a little going down the stairs, but Blaine was there, holding him up. "You'll never let me fall, will you?" Kurt said. He wasn't really sure what he was talking about, and he tried to apologize as Blaine sat him down on the bed, but Blaine just shushed him gently. Kurt couldn't believe he was this much of a fuck-up. "I know, I overreacted and I'm a drama queen and –"

Blaine cut Kurt off with a kiss. "You're perfect, baby," he told Kurt, looking into Kurt's eyes. "Whatever it was that my mother did—if it made you this upset, she and I are going to be having a long conversation," Blaine said, anger flashing across his face. His mother had made over a guest room in their house just for Kurt. She'd found a lovely jeweler in the area that specialized in lapel pins. (Blaine hadn't even known jewelers  could specialize in lapel pins, although he supposed it made just as much sense as anything else.) She'd given her (bizarre, entirely inappropriate) blessing for their future marriage. And now, apparently, she'd upset Kurt so much that he'd hurt himself in an attempt to deal with it.

Sometimes, Blaine really,  really wanted to throw something at his mother.

Or at least near her.

Kurt was more important, though. So Blaine pushed aside his anger and frustration and instead helped Kurt get changed into something more comfortable for sleeping in. Kurt wasn't snapping at him anymore, but Blaine almost wished he was. He'd prefer Kurt fighting with him to this hollow Kurt. It was like Kurt wasn't even there.

Blaine went to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth. Finn met him at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a first-aid kit. "My mom said Kurt should probably get some of the antibacterial stuff put on his hands," Finn said, holding out the kit awkwardly. "I'm gonna be sleeping upstairs," he added, as Blaine took the first-aid kit. "And mom says we don't have to go to school today because if this doesn't count as a family emergency she's not sure what does, so…"

Blaine really wasn't sure where Finn was going with this. He was a sweet guy, and given that he'd managed to snap Kurt out of his cleaning frenzy long enough for Blaine to at least get an inkling of what was wrong, Finn was apparently also pretty good with people. Just not, you know, communicating with them.

Finn fixed his gaze firmly on a spot somewhere on the ceiling. No matter how nice Blaine (Kurt's  boyfriend ) was, this was never going to not be awkward. "Um. Mom says you can spend the night – day – night – whatever— with Kurt, but she also said for me to tell you that it's 'cause she  knows you care about Kurt too much to, like, try and have sex with him right now? And that this is not going to be a typical arrangement," Finn finished, slightly relieved he'd managed to remember his mom's exact wording of the last part.

"Noted," Blaine said, moving back toward the bed. "And understood."

"Great," Finn said, then bolted.

Blaine shook his head a little as he carefully started to clean the raw skin of Kurt's hands. Kurt hissed in pain, but didn't try to pull away. "I'm sorry, baby," Blaine said anyway. "We don't want these to get infected."                            

Kurt nodded, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. When Blaine rose from the bed, presumably to get rid of the first-aid stuff, Kurt found himself reaching out and grabbing on to him.  "Don't," Kurt heard himself say, as if from a distance. "Please."

Blaine was back beside him in an instant, briefly touching Kurt's face. "Please, what, baby?" he asked softly.

"Don't leave."                            

"I'm just going to throw this away, Kurt," Blaine said softly, looking at Kurt with worry in his eyes. "You'll be able to see me the whole time." He took a step back, only to be pulled back towards Kurt's bed immediately. "Okay, okay...it can wait until after we get some sleep, you're right."

Taking off his jacket (that he hadn't even realized was still  on until that point) and shoes, Blaine stretched slightly before climbing on to the bed behind Kurt, automatically pulling him close. "You get to be the Little Spoon without even asking, baby.” He smiled softly, pressing a kiss against Kurt's shoulder blade. "You sleep, okay? I'll be here to protect you. Even from the beast that is my mother. "

"I can't..." Kurt said unthinkingly. "I'll never be able to..."

Blaine raised his eyebrows at Kurt confusedly. "You can't what? Sleep? Baby, you haven't been to bed since this time yesterday morning, I'm sure y—"

"No... I mean, I can't protect you." Kurt said, heat prickling at his eyes. He couldn’t; he knew he couldn’t, but if something were to happen—"I...I don't want to kill people, Blaine. I love you, but—I can't."

"I--Kurt, the chance that you would even have to fire someone for me is slim. The chances of you needing to kill someone--" Blaine trailed off with a frown, pulling his boyfriend closer. "I don't know what brought that up, but..." He paused, frowning even more as he thought. "My mother, right?"

"She said I'm weak, that if somebody were to attack you, I wouldn't be able to stop them," Kurt said. He still didn't want to tell Blaine about the slide show (just  thinking about it gave him cold chills worse than he had ever had before), but he was okay with giving up just the tiniest bit of what his lesson had been about.

"She what?" Blaine said, sitting up automatically. "She...That is so fucking...She's wrong, Kurt." He said forcefully, looking his boyfriend in the eyes. What could his mother find so wrong with Kurt as to insult him like that? He wasn't weak at all. He was smart without being a know-it-all, he was charming without being insincere, he was...everything that his mother had to learn how to be, only it came naturally to him. 

"She's wrong," he repeated, "and she's only telling you that you're weak because she's jealous of you, of the fact that you don't need to hide behind a gun or a husband for people to know how completely badass you are. Ignore her, okay? Actually, you won't need to ignore her, because you're not taking lessons from her anymore. If you want, you can come to my lessons with Dad, but I'm not letting her bully you just because she has some childish point to prove." He huffed loudly, laying back down and pulling Kurt close to him again.

"...You think I'm completely badass?" Kurt asked after a minute, turning in Blaine's arms so that he was facing him. "Even more badass than your mob boss of a mother?"

Blaine smiled, kissing him gently. "I think you're not only more badass than my mother, I think you're better all across the board. I mean, I can only marry the best of the best...." He winked at Kurt, smiling as the younger boy laughed softly. "You should get some sleep. Carole will have my head if you go back upstairs looking as tired as you do now."

Kurt nodded, smiling at Blaine softly before turning back over and wiggling until he was comfortable. "Little spoon privilege without even asking...I must be somebody important."

"More than you know, baby." Blaine said, smiling as he realized that Kurt had already drifted off to sleep. He sighed, thinking over everything that Kurt had told him in the past twenty minutes, and what he had realized in the past five. If his mother thought he was going to let her terrorize his fiancé just because he had qualities and talents she didn't, she was in for a  very rude awakening. Forget just apologizing, she was going to be  begging for Kurt's forgiveness if Blaine had his way.

  
  
[FANART #1](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/28552.html)   
  
  
  
  
  
  
[PART FIVE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/28971.html)   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART FIVE

A/N: I know this is really short to be its own part, but it has to be. The next one will be up soon, I promise.

 

  


[PART FOUR](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/28181.html)  


  


Melissa Anderson was sitting on a comfortable yet elegant couch in the Anderson's parlor, staring ahead unseeingly. She held a cup of tea in her hands, but it had gone cold long ago.  


  
She had done the right thing. The  necessary thing. God knows Blaine wouldn't be able to do it, and if his father hadn't thought to make sure  Melissa understood the realities of marrying into the mob, then it wasn't very likely he'd think to educate his son's boyfriend on the matter either.   


  
Still—she couldn't stop remembering the hurt defiance in Kurt's eyes, and his parting words to her:  "You know, I may be weak in your eyes just because I can't imagine being able to take someone's life, but that doesn't mean I can't protect what's mine. It just means that, unlike you, I still have empathy for other people, and that I'm not going to end up just another heartless bitch with a gun."   


  
She'd done the right thing.  She knew she had.   


  
It didn't make it any easier.   


  
Melissa heard footsteps behind her.  "I take it Mr. Hummel is on his way here?" she said, not bothering to look around.   


  
"Yes, ma'am."   


  
Melissa nodded. "Make sure there's a fresh pot of coffee ready for when he arrives. He seems like a coffee sort of man to me."   


  
The footsteps receded, and Melissa Anderson was alone with her thoughts once more.   


  
She'd done the right thing. She'd done what  her  mother-in-law should have done for her.                              


  
Either Kurt was strong enough to take it, or he was too weak, and she'd scared him into leaving Blaine. Better sooner rather than later. Either way, it had been necessary. They'd understand.   


  
They would.   


  
[ PART SIX ](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/29400.html)   


  



	6. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART SIX

[PART FIVE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/28971.html)

Burt Hummel was pissed. He had a kid who was at home on his hands and knees scrubbing the floors so hard you could eat off of them, his wife was at home not sure how to help either of them, and to top it all off, it had taken him half the damn night to find the Anderson's house. Any chance he had hoped for of cooling down as he drove had gone away somewhere around two a.m. when he had somehow found himself in Columbus.

He had finally found the house when it was getting close to morning, and had barely parked his car in the driveway before storming up to the door and knocking insistently. The woman who had answered the door had taken one look at him and told him to follow her.

"This ain't my kid." He said, as soon as he was face to face with Melissa Anderson. "I don't know about you, and how you grew up, but this? This isn't Kurt. He works hard, and he's determined, and he's probably the most kind-hearted person you'll ever meet. And I don't know what you did to him or said to him last night, but right now he's at home up to his eyeballs in cleaning products and won't talk to any of us without biting our heads off. I don’t know how much of this whole mob thing is real and how much is exaggerated, or even what it is you Andersons really do, but I do know this: Every week, he comes here to learn from you, and every time he comes home a little bit more quiet, a little bit more drawn in on himself, and that's not my Kurt. I'm almost to the point where I don't care how much he wants to be with your son. Nothing is worth him feeling like crap every time he's around you." He paused to take a breath, holding up his hand as Melissa opened her mouth.

"I'm not done yet. Here's what's gonna happen: You're gonna tell me how you're gonna make this up to not only my son, but our entire family, because, thanks to you, Kurt's got all of us sick with worry. If I think it's a good enough plan, then I'll leave and let you go back to whatever it was you were doing. If not, you're gonna get to keep trying until I'm satisfied." He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at her.

"Go ahead. I'm listening."

Melissa raised an elegant eyebrow at the man in front of her. Burt Hummel was clearly angry, and clearly loved his son. "You love your son," Melissa said. It wasn't a question, but Burt responded anyway.

"Hell yes I love my son. What's your damn point?"

"I love my son, too," Melissa said. She was too practiced now to do it, but the intensity of the situation made her want to wring her hands the way she had when she was nervous as a girl. "And I can see how much he loves Kurt. I don't want him to get hurt."

Burt snorted. "So you thought the best plan was to hurt _my_ son?"

Melissa turned and walked over to the couch. They might as well be comfortable for this. "Hurting Kurt was not my intention," Melissa said calmly. She held up a delicate finger to stop Burt's response. "It might well have been a side-effect, but it was not my intention, and I apologize for that."

"An apology ain't good enough, lady," Burt growled.

"I'm not apologizing for what I did today," Melissa said. She wanted to make herself clear. "That was necessary. Someday, he'll even thank me for it. But I am sorry that it hurt him."

"The hell did you do to him?" Burt demanded.

Melissa's composure never broke. "Blaine's made sure Kurt's aware of all the positive things that come from dating an Anderson. I wanted to make him aware of the downsides." She took a sip of her tea, and frowned. It had grown cold again.

“What downsides? I know you Andersons have a bit of a reputation and all, but it hasn’t seemed to hurt _your_ son any, so--”

"No," Melissa cut him off. "It's nothing you need worry about, Mr. Hummel," she said, rising from her seat.

"The hell it ain't," Burt said.

Melissa regarded him coolly. "I allowed you into my home because I felt, as a mother, I owed you an apology, Mr. Hummel, for any pain I may have caused your son. You may go now."

"I’m not going anywhere until—"

Melissa brushed past him to set her tea cup down on the table. "Yes," she said quietly. "You are. Oh, I suppose you could stay and rage on the front lawn if you really want, but it's not going to change anything." She turned to face him again. "This was necessary. And now I would like to go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Mr. Hummel."

Melissa swept out of the room, head held high. She wasn't worried that Burt Hummel would follow her – whoever was on guard duty that night would take care of it, if it came to that.

She wasn't sure she could keep calm in the face of his anger much longer. It made her think again of the fire in Kurt's eyes. He could be strong, Melissa knew. She hadn't seen it at first, but she knew now that Kurt had the potential to be strong enough to marry Blaine. He just needed a push, and Melissa had provided that.

Kurt needed to choose, once and for all, what kind of life he wanted. Now, before it was too late for them both to walk away with little harm done.

It had been the right thing to do, she thought, flashing back to that terrified moment of not knowing whether or not Daniel was still alive and of that one terrible second of hesitation she'd had beforehand, the one that could have cost her everything—no. It had been the right thing to do. Necessary.

PART SEVEN

  



	7. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART SEVEN

[PART SIX](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/29400.html)

Burt was seething as he drove home, somehow managing to find his way back in two hours, when the drive to find the Anderson house had taken him half the night. Storming in to the house, he paused as he saw Carole and Finn standing at the kitchen counter. "Where's Kurt?" He demanded, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the couch.

"He's downstairs, sleeping, and that's where you're going to leave him." Carole said, coming over to him and blocking his way to the basement. "Finn and Blaine finally got through to him, and he's finally sleeping, and I refuse to let you wake him up and get him upset all over again. I may not have been able to make this Anderson woman see reason, but I can and will make you. Sit down, Burt."

"No. He needs to know that he's done going to these lessons with her, whatever the hell they’re about. She's cold, and rude, and Blaine is damn lucky that I know that he's nothing like her, or else he'd be lucky if I let him sit next to Kurt on the damn school bus!" Burt said, trying to get around Carole to no avail.

"No. You need to know that if you don't sit down and calm down, you're going to work yourself in to another heart attack and scare that poor boy more than he already is right now. Go. Sit. Down," Carole said, giving him the glare that she saved for one of the boys when they were being particularly difficult.

Burt sighed, going to sit down on the couch and grumbling softly. Carole sighed, shaking her head at him and moving to sit down next to him, rubbing his shoulder gently. "If you must know, Blaine already told Kurt that he's done taking lessons with his mother, and Kurt agreed." She squeezed his arm gently before laying her head on his shoulder. "Blaine's a good kid. He looks out for Kurt almost as much as you do...He's been on the couch almost all night, not sleeping, because he was so worried. He broke down crying on my shoulder, Burt."

Burt sighed and nodded, putting his arm over her shoulder. "Yeah, I know. It's just—He's my kid, you know? I should be the one making things right for him when it's something like this. "

"You did the right thing, honey. You let him have the time he needed to work it out on his own. Now you just need to calm down so you can talk to him about what happened later today. I gave all three boys the day off from school. I didn't think you'd mind." At Burt's shake of the head, she smiled, kissing his cheek gently. "Good, because you're taking the day off work. Go get some sleep, and I'll wake you up if Kurt gets up before you do."

Burt nodded, smiling and kissing the top of Carole's head gently. "What would I do without you and Kurt to boss me around, huh? You two are better than a houseful of drill instructors." He chuckled slightly as he stood up and headed for the stairs.

"What indeed..." Carole said softly, heading back toward the kitchen. She was pretty sure Finn was still awake and upset.

Finn was staring at the coffee carrier. Carole wasn't sure for a moment if he realized she was there, but then he said: "I thought Blaine would be able to fix him." He sounded so confused.

Carole's heart ached for him. "It doesn't always work like that, honey," she told him gently, reaching up to touch him on the shoulder. God, she still couldn't believe how tall her baby was.

"Is Kurt going to be okay?" Finn asked.                        

"Yes," Carole said, squeezing Finn's shoulder. "Kurt's going to be fine." He was. Carole pressed her lips together in determination. "Now you need to get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," Finn said.

"Yes, you are," his mother contradicted him. "You just don't want to go to sleep." She pushed him out into the living room, and had him sit in one of the chairs while she made up a bed for him on the couch.  Carole tucked him in, the way she hadn't in years, and kissed him on the forehead. "You," she said fondly, "Are a very good brother."

Finn grimaced. "Not good enough," he muttered.

His mother shook her head at him. "You took good care of Kurt tonight. I didn't even think of contacting Blaine. And you were the one who got him to finally respond," she said, smoothing the covers.  "He trusts you, honey."

"He thinks I'm dumb," Finn said.

"No," Carole said. "He thinks that you think he thinks you're dumb, and he uses it against you when he's scared or upset. Kurt's been hurt pretty badly, Finn, you know that. You know what school was like for him— the way it would still be for him if it weren't for Blaine— he's had to learn how to defend himself, and he's very good at it."

"He's the bitchiest bitch of bitchtown," Finn said sleepily.

Carole wasn't sure if that meant Finn understood her or not, and she really wasn't sure she wanted him calling his brother a bitch, but at least Finn had finally gone to sleep.

She hesitated a moment, but then determinedly picked up the phone and dialed the Andersons’ number.  She was going to get to the bottom of this.  


[ PART EIGHT ](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/30090.html)

  



	8. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART EIGHT

  
                                                                                  [PART SEVEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/29807.html)

 

Melissa hadn't been able to sleep after she dismissed Burt Hummel. Not because she felt bad for the way she had treated the man; that, she felt, was entirely justified. No, this was something else, some vague sense of restless energy that wouldn't leave her alone.

"Mrs. Anderson, ma'am?" The maid (Maria, she thought) questioned softly from the doorway. "There's a Carole Hudson-Hummel on the phone for you.”

“Oh?”  Melissa raised an eyebrow.  “Very well then.  I’ll take the call here.”  Maria nodded and left quietly, shutting the door to Melissa’s study behind her.

Melissa sighed and put the phone to her ear.  “Mrs. Hudson-Hummel,” she said in greeting.  

“Is this Blaine Anderson’s mother?” The voice on the other side of the line asked.

“This is she,” affirmed Melissa.

“Good.”  The woman -- Carole Hudson-Hummel -- sounded angry.  “Then why don’t you tell me what the hell you think you’re doing?”

Melissa raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, despite no one being around to see it.  “I’m afraid that’s none of your business, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Oh yes it is,” Carole disagreed.  “It’s my business because it’s my son who came home so upset from whatever it is you two talked about that he’s been cleaning ever since, and because it’s my husband that you pissed off so completely and utterly, and because it’s my couch that your son spent half the night on, crying because he was so worried about Kurt.  Now I’m going to ask you again:  What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t answer to you, Mrs. Hudson,” Melissa said, voice as even as ever.  “It is unfortunate that Kurt was upset by our conversation earlier, but it was just that -- our conversation, the subject of which is nobody’s business but our own.  And it is unfortunate that your husband could not understand that, and it is even more unfortunate that Blaine has upset himself so, but that is their business, not mine.”

There was silence for a moment.  Then Carole spoke again, this time in a tone of disbelief.  “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Melissa did not bother to reply.

“I don’t understand you,” the other woman said.  

“It’s late, Mrs. Hudson.  Or early, depending on how you look at it.  Regardless, I think we’re done here.  You know nothing about me or my family, and this does not concern you.  If Kurt is having such difficulties with our conversation, then he should take it up with me myself.  The fact that his step-mother is calling me on his behalf does not inspire confidence in his suitability as a partner for my son.”

Carole was silent for a moment.  “You’re right.  I don’t know you, or your family, or what the hell it was you talked to Kurt about today.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.  I know a damn sight more about you than you think.  I know that you think that by not using my full last name, it'll make me learn my place; that because I'm only Kurt's stepmother, I shouldn't be defending him because he's not mine. Well, you're wrong. He is mine, and I'll fight for him just like I would for the son I had with my first husband, because no one, no one, is going to treat either of my sons the way you've been treating Kurt. 

“And I know that you love your son just as much as I love mine, even though you have a terrible way of showing it.  And so I know that you care about the fact that Blaine’s so furious with you he was damn near shaking.

“And you can deny that all you want, and claim that whatever you talked to Kurt about is just between you and him, but that doesn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, this was all about Blaine.”

Melissa laughed, surprising even herself.  She couldn’t help it, anymore than she could help the melancholy nature of the laugh itself.  “No, Mrs. Hudson,” Melissa said, “It wasn’t.  Have a good night.”

[                                                                               PART NINE ](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/30462.html)

On a side note, why the hell can't I center text anymore?  



	9. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART NINE

                                                                                                                [  PART EIGHT](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/30090.html)

 

Melissa remembered:

She’d been nearly hysterical afterward. She’d never hurt anyone before, had never seen anyone been hurt before, not on purpose. If she’d just pulled the trigger, if she hadn’t hesitated, Daniel would still be fine. He’d be smiling at her and kissing her and making sure she was alright.

He wouldn’t be struggling for breath in a private hospital. He wouldn’t have lost so much blood that he’d gone deathly pale.

He would be fine.

It was all her fault.

Someone was trying to get her cleaned up, get her to change clothes. Melissa didn’t want to. She deserved this. She deserved this stiffening cloth that stank of that metallic tang of blood. She didn’t deserve to wash the blood off her hands. “It won’t make a difference,” she said aloud. “It won’t change anything.”

She could vaguely hear people trying to talk to her, but she tuned out anything that wasn’t an update on Daniel’s condition. She let them wash her hands, finally, but it didn’t matter. The blood was always going to be there.

Melissa was a killer now.

She didn’t go see Daniel in the hospital. She had constant updates on his condition, of course, but he was still unconscious and she just couldn’t do it. Instead, she packed a bag, bullied her own bodyguard into leaving her be, and drove to her mother’s house.

Melissa knew her mother wanted to know what was going on, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain.  She just cried herself to sleep in her mother’s lap and wished she were still just Malaya Dimaano.

***

  
She had done the right thing. Melissa was sure of it. Kurt was a sweet boy, and maybe he was strong enough. But if he wasn’t— it was so much kinder to make sure he learned it now.  


 

                                                                                                                   [PART TEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/31042.html)  



	10. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART TEN

                                                                                                    [PART NINE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/30462.html)

Blaine was livid. Yet again, his mother had done something completely out of line and managed to upset his boyfriend. Unfortunately, this time couldn't really be fixed by hot sex and a promise to get married one day. This time, it was going to take a lot of baby steps to get things back to how they had been before his mother had messed it all up.

  


He sighed, sitting up slightly and reaching down to play with Kurt's hair. He didn't want to wake up the other boy, but he knew that if Kurt slept too much longer, it would throw off his sleeping schedule completely. He bent down, kissing Kurt's cheek gently and whispering in his ear.  


  
"Kurt? Wake up, baby. I think Carole made us lunch, and we need to get up there before Finn eats it all,” he said, smiling and rubbing Kurt's back gently. He laughed softly as Kurt grumbled sleepily at him and rolled away. "Oh, come on now. Don't be like that. You know you're hungry."   


  
"I'm not; I'm sleepy. And you're mean." Kurt groused, turning back towards Blaine and opening his eyes slightly. "You love me. Doesn't loving me mean letting me sleep?" He asked, frowning slightly.   


  
"Yes, but it also means getting you food so that you don't waste away into nothing." He looked at Kurt more closely, tilting his head slightly. "You don't want to go upstairs with Carole and Finn, do you?"   


  
"I just—I know they're going to want to talk, and I don’t...I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, shrugging slightly. "Besides, I don’t really remember, but I'm sure I said some really hurtful things to both of them, so...I just really don't want to sit around awkwardly for a half an hour."   


  
Blaine nodded, leaning down and kissing Kurt on the cheek. "I understand, baby. How about this: I'll go upstairs and get us some lunch while you get a shower, then we'll eat down here. You don't have to go upstairs until you're ready."   


  
Kurt smiled softly and nodded, squeezing Blaine's arm gently. "Thank you. I know I'm being sort of difficult,” he said, frowning slightly as Blaine shushed him.   


  
"Nuh-uh, none of that. You're perfectly within your rights to want to take things easy, and seeing as I'm almost your fiancé, I'm pretty sure it's part of my job to be the person making things easy on you." He shrugged, kissing Kurt gently. "I like knowing you're taken care of, you know that."   


  
“I don’t need taking care of, Blaine.”   


  
“I know,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt’s cheek.  “But I want to take care of you anyway.”   


  
Kurt finally smiled again, standing up and stretching slowly. "You know, you could always wait on getting lunch and take a shower with me, if you really wanted to make sure I'm taken care of; you could keep me from missing a spot..."   


  
Blaine groaned playfully, standing up and kissing Kurt gently. "You are going to be the death of me, Kurt Hummel. The teasing, fashionable, gorgeous death of me." He smiled, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist tightly. "If I weren't seriously concerned about Finn eating everything in the house before we got to it, I would say yes. As it is, I'm going to go be the brave soul who gets between him and a sandwich, all for you."   


  
Kurt laughed, leaning back against him for a second before pulling away and heading towards his bathroom. "Fine. Your loss, honey." He smiled, winking at Blaine before shutting the door.   


  
Blaine sighed, waiting until he heard the water from the shower start before heading towards the stairs. He knew Kurt was mainly putting on a show of being all right so that he didn't worry anyone, but at least he was smiling. It wasn't the Kurt that he was used to, but that was going to take a while. Since he wasn't planning on leaving the Hudmel household until things were back to normal, however, he didn't mind taking things one step at a time.   


                                                                                [PART ELEVEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/31711.html)  


  



	11. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART ELEVEN

[PART TEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/31042.html)

Daniel was a bit concerned. The last he'd heard from his son was a brief text near four in the morning saying that Kurt needed him and he was in Lima. It was almost twelve hours later, and Daniel still didn't know what was going on. He'd called Blaine several times, but the boy hadn't answered. He sighed, calling again, this time deciding to leave a voicemail, since Blaine obviously had no plans to call him back just because of a phone call. If that didn't work, he had no clue what he was going to do. He didn't like sending those texts-messages, and Malaya had shut herself away in her office first thing that morning, so he couldn't even get her to try and call Blaine. Jumping as the phone beeped in his ear, he cleared his throat before starting to leave his message.

"Blaine, this is your father, calling you for what is more than likely the twentieth time. I know you said that you needed to be in Lima, but as far as I am aware, cellular phones work wherever you are...Even in Lima. Call me back as soon as you get this voicemail, or I will find a way to fill up all your free time from here until June with lessons. That means you won't be going on any dates until after graduation. I'll talk to you soon."

He paused before he hung up, bringing the phone back to where he had been holding it before. "Oh, and tell Kurt I said to feel better, whatever it is that's bothering him. Talk to you soon, son."

***

  
Blaine winced as he checked his phone for the first time since he'd gotten to the Hudmels. That was a  lot of missed phone calls. Kurt was still in the shower (something Blaine was  not thinking about, especially not Kurt's suggestion that Blaine join him and make sure he got clean  everywhere \--not thinking about it.) so Blaine went ahead and listened to his voicemail.  Better to get it over with, after all.

His dad didn't sound  angry , which was something. Just frustrated. And slightly worried.

And he'd expressed concern over Kurt.

Blaine took a sip of the coffee Carole had made, and called his father back.

"Ah, so he  is alive, he just didn't want to talk to me," Blaine's father said in lieu of a greeting as he answered the phone. "Good to know, good to know..."

"Hi Dad, how are you? I'm fine, only dealing with a minor crisis over here, but sure, be flippant, that's fine." Blaine said, shortly, rolling his eyes. He knew it wasn't his father's fault that things were still hanging by a thread, but he was working on eight hours of sleep in the past two days. If you asked Blaine, a little snarkiness was allowed.

"Watch it, Blaine," his father said, warningly. "I can get someone out there to drag you home in under an hour. Considering you should already be in trouble for staying out past curfew and skipping school, it would be wise to stay on my good side right now."

Blaine sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm just freaking out right now, and you making jokes isn't helping things." He slumped back in his chair and took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Mom said or did something to Kurt that really messed him up, Dad. I don't know the whole story, he asked me to give him time before he's ready to talk about it, but his parents came home around dinner time to find him scrubbing the floors like it was gonna save someone's life. His brother called me at like, midnight, to see if I could talk some sense in to him. He didn't stop until early this morning, Dad, and even then, I'm not sure he would have if he'd been on his own."                

He frowned, picking at the place mat in front of him slightly. "I don't know what I should do. Well, I know I need to give Mom a huge chunk of my mind, but that's going to have to wait until Kurt's settled. I'm not leaving until he's okay," he added, his voice not leaving any room for argument. "And from now on, Kurt's going to be coming to my lessons with me. I don't care if that makes things difficult for you, that's how it's going to happen until Mom can prove to me that I can trust her with my boyfriend again."

"Okay, okay. Calm down, son," Daniel said gently, frowning on his end of the conversation. Obviously, he needed to find out from Malaya what exactly had happened, but until then, he would have to do the best to help Blaine with the information that he had. It was days like this that he wished his ancestors had decided to become accountants.

"I'll send Anthony down to the Hummel's house with an overnight bag for you, and have him pick up your homework on his way past the school. Do I need to call in and talk to them, make up an excuse for you not being there?" He asked, pulling out a pad of paper and writing down the things he needed to get done once he was off the phone.

"No, Kurt's stepmom did that already," Blaine said, shaking his head. "But could you have Anthony pick up Kurt's homework? And his stepbrother's? Maybe I can distract Kurt with homework enough that he'll want to talk."

"Don't worry about that so much right now, Blaine. Just let him know that you're there for him, even if he doesn't feel like talking about anything more than the paint on his walls," Daniel said, speaking from experience. "Trust me, that'll make a world of difference in how soon he starts feeling like himself again."

"Okay, I can do that. Thanks, Dad." Blaine said, standing up and heading over to the stove to start putting together a plate of food for Kurt to eat. "I'm gonna go; I told Kurt I was just going to grab some lunch and be right back downstairs."

"Look, Blaine, I'm proud of you for wanting to be a good boyfriend, just remember that this doesn't change anything. The door stays open," Daniel said.  Instantly he felt like an idiot, since he knew his son would never even think of instigating anything sexual when his boyfriend was so upset.  Well, maybe he would  think of it, since he was a teenaged boy, after all, but Daniel was sure he wouldn’t follow through on any such thoughts.  At least, Daniel thought he wouldn’t.  Oh, hell, what if Blaine  was sexually active?  He’s too young for that.  And Daniel had never talked to him about safety or anything and dear Mary, mother of God, he was going to have to have  the talk with his son and—

Blaine’s laugh echoed through the phone, cutting off Daniel’s minor panic.

"Thank you for looking out for my boyfriend's virtue, Dad,” Blaine said, opening the door to the refrigerator. “But I don't think you need to worry about that right now." Well, he didn't need to worry about  Kurt's virtue, at least. Blaine was a gentleman. His tease of a boyfriend (seriously, inviting Blaine to  shower with him? Just plain cruel), however...

He said goodbye to his father quickly as his hands started to fill up, sliding his phone in to his pants pocket before grabbing both plates and heading back downstairs. Things still felt like he was climbing one small hill on the way to scaling a huge mountain, but at least he was making progress.

[PART TWELVE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/31798.html)   



	12. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART TWELVE

  
[PART ELEVEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/31711.html)

Daniel made the necessary arrangements on autopilot. What on earth could Malaya have done to upset Kurt that badly? He knew his son wouldn’t have exaggerated about his boyfriend’s reaction, and from what Daniel knew of Kurt, he was one tough kid.

More importantly—why?

He knocked on the door of his wife’s study, and entered without permission when it became apparent that Malaya planned on simply ignoring him.

“You know, I really don’t like it when you ignore me,” Daniel said. He didn’t want to start a fight if he didn’t have to, but Malaya knew he hated being frozen out like this.

“I’m busy,” Malaya said flatly, never turning to look at her husband.

Daniel crossed his arms in frustration. “Busy with what?”

“None of your business.”

Moving forward, Daniel spun his wife’s chair around so she was face to face with him. “And what about Kurt’s lesson with you yesterday? Is that none of my business too?”

His wife’s face never changed, but Daniel saw guilt and anger flash briefly in her eyes before she finally replied. “That’s right,” she said. “It’s not.”

“What about Blaine? Kurt’s his boyfriend, after all,” Daniel said, angry. Of course it was his business. It wasn’t Family Business, but it was family business and that made it Daniel’s business.

Malaya shrugged, trying to turn around again. She couldn’t; Daniel still had hold of her chair. “The lesson was Kurt’s,” she said. “Not Blaine’s. So no, it’s not his business.”

Daniel didn’t understand his wife sometimes. Today especially so. She wasn’t acting like herself.

Well, no; that wasn’t quite accurate. She was acting like Melissa Anderson, wife of the Boss. She wasn’t acting like Malaya, the woman he’d married.

She was hiding from him. The thought made Daniel angry, and he knew it showed on his face from his wife’s reaction. She was trying to push away from him, like she was scared of him. “What the hell is going on, Malaya?” Daniel growled.

“If Blaine really wants to marry that boy, then there are things Kurt needs to know,” Malaya snapped back. “I was just honest with him. I told him that if he marries our son, he’d better be prepared to kill people in order to protect him.” 

“You told him what?”

***

  
"Kurt?" Blaine called as he got to the bottom of the stairs, "Do you want coffee or soda? I didn't have hands enough to grab everything, so I'm gonna head back upstairs to get our drinks." He said, setting the plates down on Kurt's vanity.

"I'm fine with soda," Kurt said, opening the door to the bathroom and sticking his head out. "Actually, no, water. I probably don't need anything to keep me up again tonight, right?" He said, scrunching up his face slightly at the thought.

"Yeah...probably not," Blaine said distractedly. Kurt was still wet from his shower, and Blaine found himself fascinated by the water dripping from his boyfriend's hair and sliding down over his chest. He was pretty sure if Kurt were to come out from behind the door, he'd be able to follow the droplets all the way down his body.

"Blaine!" Kurt said, laughing as the other boy jumped and blushed at being pulled out of his fantasy. "Did you hear anything that I said at all, or were you busy objectifying me?"

Blaine rolled his eyes playfully, walking over to Kurt and kissing him deeply. "I'm sorry, my extremely hot boyfriend is standing in front of me all wet. Do you really expect me not to be distracted?"

Kurt blushed, swatting at Blaine playfully.  It was adorable, the way Kurt could be so damn sexy one moment and then be almost virginally prudish the next. "I was saying, you creep, that I'm probably going to need some alone time to talk to my dad later. Would you mind keeping Finn and Carole occupied?"

"Not at all," Blaine replied immediately, running a hand through Kurt's hair gently. "Anything you need, just let me know, okay? And if your dad wants to go rail at my mom, tell him I've got his back."

Kurt smiled, kissing him gently. "Just what I need: The two most overprotective men in my life going after a mob boss' wife. That'll be a showdown for the ages."

Blaine smiled and nodded, winking at Kurt playfully. "Yeah, but we've got you to back us up. We'll win."

***

  
Daniel thought for sure he must have misunderstood. There was no way his wife would have terrified their son’s boyfriend like that. It wasn’t possible.

“It was necessary,” Malaya said quietly.

“Nec— ‘Laya, he’s sixteen.”

“I was nineteen when we got married.”

“Even if Blaine and Kurt got married tomorrow, it wouldn’t change the fact that you were out of line,” Daniel said, trying to keep his voice even. “That Kurt would ever need to kill someone is exceptionally unlikely and you know it, so the only reason you could have for that type of ‘lesson’ is that you wanted to scare him.” He paused to look at his wife. Her face was icily blank.

“Are you done?” she asked.

For a second, Daniel wanted to hit her, he was so angry. Immediately he backed away. “I guess so,” he said tightly. “Since clearly you aren’t sorry at all.”

“No,” Malaya said, her voice still unnaturally calm. “I’m not.”

Daniel shook his head. He couldn’t understand this woman sometimes. “You know Blaine’s angry with you,” he said abruptly. Maybe she would care about that.

“That’s his choice,” she said, turning back to her computer. “Shut the door behind you, please.”

Daniel might have slammed it, but since that would be juvenile and petty, he wouldn’t ever admit to it.

If Melissa dropped her head into her hands and cried after the door slammed shut, well, she wouldn’t admit to that either.  


[PART THIRTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32005.html)

  



	13. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART THIRTEEN

[PART TWELVE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/31798.html)

She’d almost left him. She loved Daniel—loved him so, so much—but she didn’t think she could do this. She couldn’t  be Melissa Anderson. She didn’t want to.

All she wanted was to be Malaya Dimaano again.

She visited Daniel in the hospital after he woke up, but she never stayed for long and their conversations were cursory and stilted. She could see Daniel wanted to make her stay and talk about things, but she wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

He came to bring her home after he was released from the hospital, but Melissa didn’t answer the door.  Her mother did, eventually, and eventually, Daniel left without seeing her.

He came back every day.

Melissa locked herself in her childhood bedroom and tried to pretend Daniel wasn’t on her doorstep.

Her mother didn’t understand what had happened, but she gave Malaya space. She ran interference with Daniel. She even picked up some legal information and left it sitting out for her daughter. She didn’t know why Malaya was hiding from the man she’d been so in love with. She’d been so young when they got married—was still so young. Too young.

If she’d changed her mind and wanted out, then her mother would be there to help her.

And if she decided to go back to that mansion with him, well, her mother would support her in that too.  Because despite what was happening now, Malaya had always been happiest when she was with Daniel.  And in the end, she just wanted her daughter to be happy.

***

  
The first time Melissa talked to Daniel after he got out of the hospital was after the birth of their son. “I didn’t want to name him without you,” she said, cradling the newborn to her chest.

Daniel kissed her, and she knew he was crying. So was she. “I love you,” she said into the kiss, helplessly. “I love you and I tried but I can’t—I love you.”  

She had tried. She had tried so hard to live without Daniel.

In the end, it had been pointless. She’d known from the beginning, but had tried anyway. Ever since she met Daniel, he’d been her life. How  could  she live without him?

 

[PART FOURTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32483.html)   



	14. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART FOURTEEN

[PART THIRTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32005.html)

 

  
Kurt has it all figured out. Melissa thinks he's weak, and now he has the perfect opportunity to prove that he isn't. He's not only going to shoot someone, he's going to shoot his own freaking boyfriend. In the face. It's a genius plan. Not only will it get her to shut up about how weak he is, it'll get Blaine to stop asking if he's okay for five seconds.           

Okay, he wasn't actually going to shoot Blaine. That would be counterproductive to his whole "I want to marry him someday" thing, and besides, he would feel really bad about it (eventually). But still, he needed to do something to get some time alone.

"Blaine. You should go take a shower," Kurt said suddenly, sitting up from where he had laid back against his headboard. "A really long shower, even."

"Are you trying to tell me I smell, Kurt?" Blaine asked, frowning and tilting his head to sniff at his armpits slightly. Such a boy, Kurt thought to himself as he sighed and shook his head.

"No, honey...I'm saying that you should go make sure that you're extremely clean,” Kurt said, looking his boyfriend up and down suggestively. "So that I can get you dirty all over again."

"I—Um, Kurt...I'm pretty sure Carole's only letting me stay down here because I promised not to take advantage of you. And, I mean...we're going slow, right? That doesn’t sound like going slow.”

"But Blaine, I'm the one who was so upset. Don't you trust me to know what I need to feel better?" Kurt asked, pouting slightly. He really didn't like needing to manipulate Blaine the way he was trying to, but he really couldn’t think of any other way to get his (well-meaning) boyfriend out of his hair for half an hour.

Blaine sighed, kissing Kurt gently before standing up. "I'll go take a shower, but I'm not promising anything, alright? I don't want you to think that this is what you need, only for it to make things worse." He grabbed the overnight bag that Anthony had brought for him before heading to the bathroom.

Kurt nodded, waiting until Blaine had locked the door behind him before springing up off the bed and heading for the stairs. He slowed down when he got to the top of the stairs, looking around for Carole and Finn before climbing the steps to the top level of the house quietly. He tiptoed to the door of his dad and Carole's room, knocking lightly before pushing it open. "Dad? You awake?"

Burt looked up, smiling at Kurt softly and nodded. "Yeah, Kid. Get in here; you know you don't have to knock." He held up the book that had been in his lap. "Just looking at pictures of you as a kid. Been making me look like a crappy dresser since you could tie a tie, you know that?"

Kurt laughed, climbing on to the bed and crawling over to look at the pictures as well. "Dad, your wardrobe, and I use that word very lightly in this case, consists of coveralls, flannel shirts, and the occasional grease stained baseball cap. A monkey in a fez could make you look like a bad dresser."           

Burt laughed, throwing an arm around Kurt's shoulders and squeezing him gently. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Good thing you're around to bring some class to this bunch, huh?" He asked. "No matter what anybody may say about us Hummels, they can never say we don't have class." He snorted out a laugh. "We got more balls than a lot of people in this whole town too, but that's not as polite to brag about in public."

"No, I guess not," Kurt said, biting his lip for a second before saying anything else. "Listen, Dad, I just wanted to say I'm sorry...for earlier. I know I scared you, and even though I don't remember exactly what I said, I'm pretty sure I owe you an apology. Carole and Finn, too.”

Burt shrugged, not looking up from the pictures he had flipped to. "Don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean it, and Carole and Finn both understand how upset you were.  Although an apology probably wouldn’t hurt." He cleared his throat slightly before continuing. "They, um...They said Blaine's here? That he really helped get you calmed down?"

Kurt nodded, smiling softly. "He's been amazing, Dad. I mean it. I'm pretty sure worrying about me is the only thing that's kept him from driving home and screaming at his mom until he's blue in the face."

"He doesn't need to worry about that," Burt said, gruffly. "Wouldn't want him getting in to trouble with her since he has to live with her...Also, I can see why you come home from lessons with her looking the way you do...She's kind of a bitch, huh?" Burt asked, looking at Kurt and smiling sarcastically.           

Kurt opened his mouth, and then closed it, deciding he didn't want to know.   He hummed in response.  “You know, usually not so much, but lately, yeah, kind of....kind of a lot, really," he added, rolling his eyes slightly. "I'm not going to lessons with her anymore though, so don't worry. I'm going to Blaine's lessons with his dad. You'd like him, he's pretty laid back."

Burt nodded, rubbing Kurt's shoulder gently, thinking for a second before deciding what he wanted to say, keeping his eyes on the pictures in front of him. "And—this whole...future, that you're planning out. It's worth all the stress, and the headaches, and the nights like last night?"

Kurt leaned his head on his Dad's shoulder, shrugging slightly. "The future itself? Maybe not all of it's worth the trouble...but Blaine being a part of it? Definitely."

Burt nodded, kissing the top of Kurt's head gently. "Then he's lucky that he's nothing like his mother. Otherwise, you'd be looking for a new future."

Kurt laughed, cuddling closer to Burt and blinking up at him, the picture of innocence. "So, does that mean we're not going to start inviting the Andersons to Friday night dinner?"

Burt rolled his eyes, smacking the side of Kurt's head lightly before nudging him to sit up. "Yeah, yeah, smartass. Don't you have a boyfriend to harass, instead of your old man?"

Kurt smiled, kissing him on the cheek before climbing off the bed. "You're right, and he did just get in the shower...Good thinking, Dad!" He said, laughing and running out of the room quickly.

"KURT!" Burt called after him, his face red. "KURT ELIZABETH HUMMEL, THAT DOOR BETTER STAY OPEN! I WILL SIC CAROLE ON YOU, DON'T THINK I WON'T!"

 

[PART FIFTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32620.html)  


  



	15. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART FIFTEEN

  
[PART FOURTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32483.html)

Kurt closed the basement door behind him and leaned back against it, mirth in his eyes. Honestly, his dad was just so easy sometimes.  

“What’s so funny?” Blaine called up to him.

Kurt locked the door behind him. He knew his father wouldn’t really be that upset about the door being shut, not when he and Carole were both in the house, not to mention Finn, whose bedroom it also was.

His father probably wouldn’t approve of Kurt’s locking it, though. Still. Worth it.

[He went down the stairs, finally spotting Blaine about halfway down. Blaine was dressed, in the same business casual attire he’d worn last night, but his button up shirt was still undone and he wasn’t wearing socks. He was drying his hair, and couldn’t see Kurt.](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32946.html)

Kurt snuck up behind his boyfriend and snaked his arms around Blaine, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder. “Hello,” he said breathlessly into Blaine’s ear, closer than actually necessary.

Blaine dropped the towel. “Kurt!” His hands flashed down to rest on top of Kurt’s.

“Yes, honey?” Kurt said, still channeling his favorite Hollywood starlets. “What can I do for you?” He felt more than heard his boyfriend take a deep, shuddering breath. Emboldened, Kurt lightly kissed Blaine—first on the ear, then on the neck, and then stayed there—not biting or sucking or anything like that, just letting his lips barely graze his boyfriend’s skin. Blaine made a smothered sound and his hands tightened on Kurt’s, but his head bent to the side, giving Kurt more room and wordlessly asking for more.

Kurt disentangled himself to move around Blaine and sit on the bed. Grabbing Blaine’s hand, he tugged him forward. Blaine stepped in closer, but that wasn’t what Kurt wanted. This time, he pulled suddenly and sharply, making Blaine lose his balance and fall on top of Kurt, who lay back on the bed.

“Kurt.” Blaine groaned raggedly, trying to get up the self-control necessary to move off of his beautiful, gorgeous, fucking tease of a boyfriend. Kurt’s hand was somehow in his hair, though, and then Kurt was kissing him, and Blaine had agreed to treat Kurt like an equal in this part of their relationship the same as everywhere else, and yeah, they’d agreed they’d go slow, but Kurt was there and moving up into him and kissing wantonly and really, what was Blaine supposed to do in this kind of a situation? He growled into Kurt’s mouth and used his knee to coax Kurt’s legs open, to let him in. God, Kurt was hard, and Blaine was hard, and he wanted and he was so tired of trying to push that want down where Kurt couldn’t see it.

Kurt wanted this. Blaine knew that. He knew that Kurt might not be ready for it. He also knew that that was Kurt’s to decide, not Blaine’s. (Kurt had rather forcefully pounded that into his head a month ago.)

So Blaine went for it. He still tried to hold himself back, not to go too fast or be too forceful, to give Kurt every chance in the world to say no or I’m not sure or I don’t want—

Blaine pulled back from Kurt’s increasingly desperate kisses, despite the disconsolate noise Kurt made when he did so, and stood up, off of the bed. Kurt looked incredibly frustrated and Blaine could tell he was about to start arguing, so Blaine went ahead and dropped to his knees before Kurt could open his mouth. He was still in between Kurt’s legs, but much further down, so Blaine tugged his boyfriend closer to him by his thighs.

“Wha-” Breathless, Kurt tried to sit up, but Blaine’s hands were on his hips.

“I want to suck you off,” Blaine said. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Kurt’s groin. God, did he want to suck Kurt off. He’d wanted to suck Kurt’s cock for what seemed like forever.

“Wait, what?” Kurt panted, sounding shocked.

Blaine quickly glanced up at Kurt’s face, concerned, but Kurt didn’t seem to be upset or uncomfortable, just a little disbelieving and a whole lot turned on.  

“I want to suck you off,” Blaine repeated.  

Kurt was blushing now, really blushing. The tops of his ears were bright red. Blaine thought it was adorable. (And since when did adorable turn him on? Oh, yeah— when he started dating Kurt.)

“But — why would you — it’s gross! And you won’t be able to breathe, and I’ll do something stupid and hurt you, and then you’ll hate me, and —”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Blaine tugged on Kurt’s hand, encouraging him to sit up. “I could never hate you, Kurt. And what do you mean, it’s gross and I won’t be able to breathe?”  

“Rachel said —”

Blaine closed his eyes in frustration. “Kurt. You really need to stop listening to what girls say about sex. Especially Rachel.”

“But—”

“Believe me, this isn’t some sort of selfless act,” Blaine said, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “I want to, I promise. I’ve been thinking about it for months.” He paused. “It’s not gross, Kurt. And yeah, things might not go completely smoothly the first time, but that’s what practicing’s for. I’ve been dreaming about this, baby,” Blaine confessed. “If you don’t want me to, that’s fine; that’s more than fine; I told you, we’re doing this at your pace. But if it’s just that you think I’ll hate it, then — please, baby? I want to suck your cock. I want to taste you, feel you in my mouth.” Blaine pulled Kurt’s hand gently to his lips and kissed where Kurt would one day wear his ring. “I want to make you feel so, so good, baby,” Blaine whispered. “Please let me?”

Kurt stayed utterly still for a moment, then shakily nodded. “Okay. Should I —” Kurt gestured vaguely at his pants. Blaine couldn’t help but smile.

“I got it,” he assured his boyfriend. Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand reassuringly one more time and then moved his hands to Kurt’s hips, almost petting him. He could feel the minute shakes of Kurt’s body as his fingers drifted up to trace the delicate skin of Kurt’s stomach, and then dipped down below his waistband. Blaine swallowed hard as he finally (finally!) started to unbutton Kurt’s pants and slowly pull them down.

Kurt wasn't wearing underwear, which startled Blaine a little, even though he'd been half expecting it.  Kurt did like his tight pants, after all.  As Blaine tugged Kurt's pants over his hips, more and more pale skin came to light. Blaine couldn't help but grin when he realized Kurt had freckles here too.  Leaning over just a little, Blaine paused to kiss the skin he'd just bared.  "You've got freckles," he said breathlessly.

Kurt squirmed uncomfortably.  "I know," he said, voice high and tense.  "I can't get rid of them."

Blaine shook his head, brushing his lips across Kurt's skin.  "I love your freckles," he said, pulling himself up to give Kurt a proper kiss.  "I think they're adorable.  You're adorable."

Kurt rolled his eyes.  "And you're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. 

"Too cheesy?" Blaine asked.

"Even if you had a dozen bottles of wine," affirmed Kurt.

Blaine grinned and eased himself back down onto his knees. 

 

[PART SIXTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/33151.html)

 

Okay, so I know you guys will be upset that I'm leaving it off here. I have the next part ready, but the part after that---not so much. And [](http://moofielou.livejournal.com/profile)**[moofielou](http://moofielou.livejournal.com/) **  was very insistent that there be more porn.  So...I shall be writing porn.  Of dubious quality and somewhat accidental d/s themes.  >.>

Yeah.  So.  Be patient?  Or don't, I suppose, but then you'll be far more frustrated by the wait.

  



	16. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART SIXTEEN

Okay, folks-- here's the thing. I am not a teenage boy, much less a gay teenage boy. ~~and also I have not had sex.~~ So if anything comes off as inaccurate, anatomically incorrect, or just plain odd, please! Let me know? Thanks.

  


[PART FIFTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/32620.html)

Kurt wasn't shaking anymore, his nerves forgotten.  He tensed up again when Blaine urged him to pull his hips off the bed for a moment, but he was still more relaxed than he had been.  Which had been the whole point.

Blaine felt a little less nervous too.  It was okay.  Even if he messed up, it would be okay.  He still couldn't help but take in a sharp breath when he finally got to see Kurt's cock.

He’d seen dicks before, of course —hello, he  had  one— but somehow this was different from watching porn or jerking himself off. This was  Kurt . It was  Kurt’s cock curving upward toward his stomach,  Kurt’s  cock that was flushed red and swollen,  Kurt’s  cock that was shaking a little from the tremors that were racking his body.

Blaine hesitated a moment, then slowly leaned in and kissed the head, a short, soft kiss that had Kurt jerking in surprise. Blaine drew back, tongue flickering out to run over his lips. He could taste something vaguely salty that he supposed was Kurt. “Okay?” Blaine asked, rubbing Kurt’s hip soothingly.

“Y-yes,” Kurt said shakily.

“Okay,” Blaine said. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in again, this time actually taking Kurt’s erection into his mouth.

It was at once everything Blaine had imagined and nothing like it at all.  He could feel Kurt’s heartbeat, for fuck’s sake, and they never said anything about that on sex ed websites.  Kurt was warm in his mouth, strangely so, considering Blaine was pretty sure the inside of his mouth was a higher temperature than Kurt’s surface body temp.  He was warm and solid and he filled Blaine’s mouth completely in a way no practice-popsicle ever had.

It was  awesome .

Blaine could feel Kurt’s cock pressing at the back of his mouth, tickling his throat and threatening to trigger Blaine’s gag reflex.  Blaine grabbed Kurt’s hips, pinning them to the bed, and slowly, deliberately swallowed.

The sound Kurt made was one Blaine would be replaying in his mind during jerkoff sessions for the rest of his  life,  fuck.  Blaine desperately wanted to reach down and jerk off; he was so goddamn hard it  hurt .  There was something else he wanted more, though.

  


Blaine’d always (okay, not always, but since not very long after discovering gay porn) thought he’d be a bit of a slut for cock, or at least for sucking cock.  He liked playing with his ass every once in a while, but he tended to fantasize more about fucking than being fucked.  But holy Mary, mother of God, did he like having a cock in his mouth.

  


His friends had always teased him about his oral fixation.  He always had a pen in his mouth, or a lollipop, or  something , at least when he was relaxed enough to be just Blaine and not Blaine Anderson, heir to  the  Andersons (yes,  those Andersons).

  


They had no fucking idea.

  


Distantly, he realized that he’d tightened his grip on Kurt, pressing him further into the bed, and that considering how fair his boyfriend was, probably bruising him (and jesus, wasn’t  that a hot image?  Kurt going around about his day, classes, Glee, all the while underneath that prim neat exterior bruises like fingerprints bracketing his hips, marking him,  claiming  him, reminding him of Blaine with every little ache) but Kurt wasn’t complaining, in fact, he was moaning, leaning into it, so Blaine let himself go and just lost himself in sucking Kurt’s cock.

  


He loved sucking cock.  He couldn’t believe they’d gone so long without doing this.  God, he should be sucking Kurt’s cock  all the fucking time .  

  


Blaine tried a few times to deep throat Kurt the way he’d seen in pornos, which turned out to be not his best idea ever, making him choke and his eyes tear up, but it was still fucking hot, so who the fuck cared?  He’d just have to practice.  Oh no, woe is him, he needs to suck Kurt’s cock again so he can give a better blowjob.

  
Tonguing the sensitive spot right below the head, Blaine pulled off of Kurt’s cock just enough to easily look up.  He wanted to see Kurt’s face.  He  needed to see Kurt’s face.  He needed to see his meticulous, particular, controlled boyfriend fall apart, needed to see what he was doing to Kurt, how he was making him feel – God, he’d fantasized about this a thousand times and now he was actually going to see –

Kurt was crying.

Fuck, Kurt was  crying .

Blaine instantly scrambled up onto the bed, hands fluttering indecisively over Kurt’s shoulders.  He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know what he’d  done , but Kurt was  crying and Blaine wanted to touch him, hold him and apologize and tell him how much Blaine loved him, how much Blaine would always love him, but what if Kurt needed space or –

Kurt solved his dilemma by grabbing a bit of Blaine’s shirt and pulling down (hard) so Blaine was on the bed next to him.  Kurt curled towards him and practically buried himself in Blaine’s arms; Blaine could feel his shirt getting damp and the minute tremors that racked Kurt’s body.  

(He could also feel Kurt’s naked cock, strangely enough, still rock-hard, right next to his, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now.

…Okay, mostly not thinking about that right now.  Blaine’s only human, after all.)

Blaine belatedly realized he was babbling, asking Kurt if he was alright and “God, I’m so sorry, baby.  I love you, Kurt.  I’m sorry, so sorry; please, talk to me, baby.  Please, just let me know if you’re okay—“

Blaine cut himself off.  Of course Kurt wasn’t okay.

Huddled up in the circle of Blaine’s arms, Blaine could feel Kurt shaking his head against Blaine’s chest.  He said something, but it was muffled and Blaine couldn’t make it out.

“Kurt, baby, I can’t understand you.”

Kurt still didn’t pull back and so his reply was still muffled, but he’d raised his voice enough that Blaine could make out that Kurt was fine, he was sorry, he was fine, just give him a minute, okay?  He’s fine; he promises.

Blaine didn’t know what to do.  He petted at Kurt helplessly, trying to provide comfort in whatever way he could.  He still didn’t know what was wrong.

Except that he’d been right.  Kurt was  so not ready for them to go that fast.  Even if he wanted them to.

 

[PART SEVENTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/33768.html)

Also, I feel like I make Kurt cry way too often. >.< I guess these things happen, though.  



	17. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART SEVENTEEN

Okay, guys. Just remember, if you kill me with your brains I can't write the next part. I'm posting this one now so I have more of an incentive to write the missing next part.

Also, fair warning:  Apparently all porn I write ends up with D/s overtones, and the D/s bits in this are NOT discussed beforehand or negotiated in any way, which is NOT a good way to do things.  Blaine is completely out of line tying Kurt up without discussing it first, especially considering that at the time, Kurt isn't at all in a headspace to be able to make reasoned decisions.

[PART SIXTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/33151.html)

Kurt’s breath still hitched a little, but his body was stilling, calming under Blaine’s hands.  Finally Kurt pulled back enough that Blaine could finally see his face.  It was slightly red and tearstained, but Kurt looked surprisingly calm for someone who’d been crying moments earlier.

Blaine started to speak, but Kurt cut him off with a finger to his lips.  “It’s not your fault,” Kurt said softly.  “It was—when you were—“ Kurt was stumbling over his words, so he paused, licked his lips, and started again.  “That felt really good,” he said.  “Like, really  really good.”

Blaine must have looked a bit skeptical, because then Kurt was rolling his eyes in a frustrated manner.  “It was just really intense, Blaine.  And I didn’t know what to do.  I should have said something, but it felt so  amazing and then it was just too much and I couldn’t stand it even though I wanted you to never stop.”  Kurt took in a large, slightly shaky breath.  “I don’t want you to stop.”

Blaine didn’t understand.  

Kurt shifted slightly and suddenly he was closer.  His leg slipped between Blaine’s and they were entangled in a way that was somehow even more intimate.  And then Kurt—he was biting his lip and looking at Blaine in that uncertain, adorable, fucking  sexy way he sometimes did, and deliberately rolling his hips into Blaine’s.  Blaine couldn’t help but groan, and his hips reflexively thrust back for a moment before he regained control and stilled them.  “Kurt…” His voice trailed off.  Blaine didn’t know what to say.  He was having trouble thinking straight, but he was pretty  sure this was a bad idea.  Getting right back on the horse was not a sex thing.  Right?

Kurt sighed one of those exasperated little sighs of his and suddenly his hand was snaking in between their bodies—

“Kurt!” Blaine intercepted the hand, grabbing both of Kurt’s wrists firmly and holding them down against the bed.  “Stop.”

Kurt made a small sound that Blaine couldn’t interpret, but stayed still.

“We need to talk about this,” Blaine said.  “We need to…” Blaine paused and studied Kurt’s face more closely.  Kurt looked…turned on? And overwhelmed again.  Just like he had during the blowjob, although he didn’t look close to tears this time. Kurt shifted beneath Blaine, and Blaine would have immediately let him up, except that it didn’t look like Kurt was actually trying to get out from underneath him.  It was more like he just couldn’t stay still, couldn’t help but twist against where Blaine had him pinned down.  It was almost as if…

Experimentally, Blaine tightened his grip.  Kurt whimpered, there was no other word for it, and his hips thrust up against Blaine restlessly.  “You like this,” Blaine said slowly.  “You like it when I hold you down.”

Kurt shook his head wildly.  “No,” he said, and it was obviously a lie.  “No, I don’t.  Why would I— I  don’t .”

He looked terrified.  And so, so turned on.  Thinking about it, Blaine could understand the fear.  Kurt was always so in control.  He  liked being in control.  He was even controlling at times.  He didn’t like letting people—Blaine—take care of him.  No, that wasn’t quite right.  He didn’t like the idea of  needing someone to take care of him.  He didn’t like the idea of being weak.

Never mind the fact that Kurt wasn’t.  He was the strongest person Blaine knew, and Blaine knew a lot of strong-minded people.  (His mother, for one.)

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s wrists again warningly.  “I thought we agreed we would always be honest with each other,” Blaine said, a little embarrassed by how raw his voice sounded.  

“We did,” Kurt said, “We did, but I don’t—”

“Kurt.” 

Something about his tone of voice made Kurt close his eyes and try to turn away, to hide from him.

“Don’t lie to me,” Blaine said quietly, adjusting his grip so he could hold both of Kurt’s wrists down with just one hand.  With the other, he made Kurt look at him.  “Look at me, Kurt.”  Reluctantly, slowly, Kurt opened his eyes. “That’s it, baby,” Blaine said, rubbing the inside of Kurt’s wrist with his thumb soothingly.  “It’s okay.  You like this, don’t you?”

Kurt’s face twisted up and for several long minutes, he didn’t answer.  Blaine waited patiently, just watching.  

“…yes,” Kurt finally admitted in a quiet wretched voice.  He tried to turn away from Blaine’s gaze again, but Blaine held him still.

“Yes, what, Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head.  “Don’t make me—”

“ Kurt .”

Kurt’s eyes scrunched shut again.  Blaine thought it was easier for him that way, if he didn’t have to see Blaine.

“I…I like this,” Kurt said, and he sounded absolutely miserable.

“Like what?” 

Kurt let out a little despairing sound.  Blaine was aware he was being cruel, but somehow he knew this was important.  He had to get this right.

“Like  what ?” Blaine repeated.

Kurt mumbled something unintelligible, and Blaine tightened his grip disapprovingly.  Kurt swallowed hard and tried to speak several times, but couldn’t seem to make the words come out.

“This isn’t difficult, baby,” Blaine said.  “You like  what ?”

“…like it when you hold me down.”

Blaine let out a sigh of relief.  He’d worried he was pressing too hard.  “Thank you, baby,” he said, letting his appreciation and approval color his voice.  “That was hard for you to admit, wasn’t it?”

Kurt gave a small jerk of agreement.

Blaine nodded.  “I know it was.  But you did.  You were so good for me, baby, telling me the truth.”  Kurt made a small, strange sound which would have concerned Blaine if it weren’t for the way he could feel the tension melting out of Kurt’s body.   “So good for me,” Blaine repeated, murmuring it into Kurt’s mouth in between short, sweet kisses.  “So good, baby.”

Kurt’s breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything.  Blaine didn’t need him to say anything, though.  The way Kurt was sinking down into the bed and curling himself against Blaine was a clear enough response.  Kurt didn’t just like being held down.  He liked being  good .  His face had flushed and it was still scrunched up in discomfort—embarrassment, most likely; as arrogant and assured of himself as Kurt was, he was really quite terrible at accepting praise for anything except his singing or his choice in clothes.

Blaine knew Kurt didn’t believe him, not really, when Blaine told him how beautiful he was, how sexy, how smart, how much Blaine loved him.  It hurt.  Blaine understood why.  He understood the damage McKinley had wrought, how day after day of being told you were wrong and disgusting and poisonous could affect a person, particularly a person as kind and sensitive as Kurt.

That didn’t stop it from hurting when Kurt didn’t believe him.  Kurt was getting closer to it, though, Blaine was pretty certain.  Kurt trusted Blaine to be honest, trusted Blaine to always tell him the truth.

Kurt just didn’t trust that Blaine knew the truth.  For a long time, Blaine hadn’t understood that.  He’d resented the fact that Kurt seemed to think he was constantly lying to him.  It wasn’t until he’d accidentally overheard a conversation between Kurt and Mercedes that he had started to put the pieces together.

***

“Have you  seen  the way that boy looks at you?” Mercedes’ voice demanded.

“Just because he thinks he’s in love with me doesn’t mean he really is,” Kurt’s voice had responded, slightly steely.

“The hell are you talking about, Kurt?  That’s pretty much exactly what that means.”

There was a pause.  Then Blaine heard Mercedes’ voice again.

“Why can’t you just believe him?  You’re always talking about how honest you guys are with each other, which, by the way, I still say is strange, so why…?”

Blaine heard a sigh, probably from Kurt.

“I believe that he believes it,” he heard Kurt say wearily.  “There’s a difference.  C’mon; we’re going to be late for Glee.  And why would we want to miss our wonderful opportunity to sway in the background and do harmonies for Miss Rachel Berry?”

***

“So beautiful like this,” Blaine said into the vulnerable hollow of Kurt’s throat.  “Beautiful and perfect and  mine .”  He let go of Kurt for a moment in order to coax Kurt’s shirt up over his head.  Kurt tried to help, but he was so dazed that he was actually hindering Blaine’s efforts.  The sartorial battle ended with Blaine triumphantly tossing Kurt’s button-up aside.  Kurt clicked his tongue disapprovingly at the treatment, but never got a chance to complain.  While Kurt had been refocusing on his clothes, Blaine had taken the opportunity to divest himself of his clothes and collect...supplies.

Kurt blinked stupidly at the crumpled shirt on the floor.  He knew he ought to get up and at the very  least hang the shirt up, if not take an emergency iron to it; it was designer and probably  ruined now, but he wasn’t entirely certain he could stand up.  His body felt as though his bones had melted away, been dissolved by the heat of Blaine’s touch.  He ought to get up.

“Shh, baby.”  Blaine’s face came into view above him, making Kurt’s neck strain looking at him.  Blaine gently encouraged him to lay back down on the pillows, and Kurt sank gratefully back into the softness of the bed.  He didn’t feel entirely real.  It was like a dream, or at least like what Kurt thought dreams should be like.  He usually didn’t remember his dreams.

Blaine was shirtless now.  Kurt wanted to touch him, all that skin exposed when it was normally hidden away--Blaine had hair on his chest.  Kurt had always kind of found chest hair gross, but it looked good on Blaine and he wanted to touch it, see what the texture was like, but when he tried to reach out, Blaine wouldn’t let him.  Instead Kurt found himself with his arms outstretched above his head.  Blaine crossed his wrists, one over the other, and Kurt shook a little at the feeling.  His wrists  ached , ached like he did waiting for a kiss, a touch,  anything from Blaine.  It felt good and terrible and Kurt couldn’t stand it.  He tried to pull his arms down, but Blaine had done  something and he couldn’t; there was something wrapped around his wrist, holding him there, restraining him and Kurt ought to be frightened, he ought to be angry and yelling and asking Blaine what the hell he thought he was doing, but he wasn’t, he wasn’t--

“Calm down, Kurt.”

Kurt couldn’t calm down.  How the fuck was he supposed to calm down?

“Breathe, baby.  You were being so good for me before.  Just breathe.”  Kurt felt little kisses being dusted over his face and neck, soothing nearly as much as they aroused.  His breath was slowing, deepening, and the panic seemed to be receding, which almost seemed to be a reason to panic  further , but then Blaine was kissing him again,  really kissing him, and Kurt just let himself go.

 

[PART EIGHTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34034.html)   



	18. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART EIGHTEEN

[PART SEVENTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/33768.html)

**HERE THERE WILL BE PORN, AT SOME POINT.  IN THE MEANTIME, HAVE SOME PLOT:**

[PART NINETEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34204.html)   



	19. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART NINETEEN

[PART EIGHTEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34034.html)

Kurt slowly came to consciousness still curled up the way he had when he’d fallen asleep.  He was warm and comfortable and sleepy and there was really no reason for him to have woken up yet, just the empty, slightly cooler spot behind him where Blaine should be and the murmur of conversation nearby.

The murmur quickly turned heated, and Kurt was hard-pressed to stay as he was, but he knew Blaine wouldn’t welcome any interruptions right now.  He must be talking to his mother; Kurt didn’t think he’d ever seen Blaine as openly angry as he’d been the night before.  Not that Blaine didn’t get angry, far from it—Blaine had a temper, just like Kurt, which sometimes got them into trouble.  The difference was that Blaine suppressed his anger, kept it hidden, until he could no longer hold it all in.  Blaine did that with most emotions, actually.  Kurt supposed it had to do with the way he grew up and his family’s business.

Kurt didn't hear anything from the other side of the phone conversation, but he did hear the sudden CRACK! of Blaine's cell phone hitting the wall and the loud "Fuck!" that followed.  Kurt quickly shut his eyes, knowing that Blaine was now looking around guiltily, hoping that he hadn't woken Kurt up.  After a few minutes, so as to not make Blaine feel guilty, Kurt faked waking up, sitting up with an only slightly exaggerated yawn and stretching his arms up over his head.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Blaine greeted him fondly, crossing the room to Kurt's bed.  Kurt received an overly-affectionate kiss to the cheek which made him both roll his eyes and smile.  Blaine was such a sweetheart.  Sometimes dorkily so.  "Sleep well?"

"Mmm.  Well enough," Kurt said.  "You?"

"I'm good," Blaine said.  Kurt was startled by the slightly sly tone of voice Blaine used.  It was almost as though--oh.  "Great, even," Blaine added, his voice even deeper and raspier, his  sex  voice, and jesus Kurt hoped Blaine wasn't going to start talking like this all the time or he would never get anything done.  And possibly spontaneously combust.

Blaine's fingers gently grasped Kurt's chin and turned Kurt's face to him.  Kurt suddenly felt shy and looked away, his face flushing.  He hadn't yet thought about what they'd done earlier, not really, and now Blaine was bringing it up (obliquely, to be sure) and Kurt couldn't help but remember how shamefully he'd acted.  Kurt wasn't sure he could face Blaine again, not so soon, not after--

"Hey."  Blaine's fingers snapped in front of Kurt's face, shocking him.  "Look at me," Blaine said, and it was an order.  Kurt hesitantly let his eyes flicker back to meet Blaine's.  Blaine looked a little irritated, but mainly he looked like he always did, fond and adoring and ridiculously, over-the-top in love, with an underlying layer of sympathy.  "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Kurt."

Kurt jerked away from Blaine's grip and his words, getting up from the bed and heading over to his closet.  "Of course I don't," he said, voice higher and sharper than he'd meant it to be.

"Kurt."

Kurt ignored the entreaty in Blaine's voice.  If they didn't talk about it, then maybe it could be like it never happened.  Kurt could pretend he'd never begged Blaine to do something,  anything to him, could pretend he hadn't felt like he was melting, burning alive when Blaine had held him down, when Blaine made him--

"Baby, look at me."

Kurt deliberately busied himself flipping through hangers so he'd have an excuse not to turn around.  Kurt so did not want to talk about this.  Behind him, he heard Blaine sigh.  "I'm going to go take a shower," his boyfriend said. Kurt waved a hand dismissively at him.

Blaine didn't leave, though.  Instead, he stepped forward and rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder.  It was a warm, heavy weight Kurt'd felt a million times before, but there was an added weight to it now.  "We  are going to talk about this, Kurt."

"Just go take your shower, Blaine," Kurt said, trying not to sound plaintive.  Blaine sighed again, but the hand left Kurt’s shoulder and behind him he could hear Blaine’s receding footsteps.  Kurt bit his lip and let himself stop for a moment, just to breathe and resituate himself.  Blaine was probably right that they needed to talk about … whatever that was they had done earlier.  It hadn’t been just sex, Kurt knew that.  But not right now.  Kurt couldn’t deal with thinking about it and all its possible implications, not right now.  He had other, more pressing issues to worry about.

Okay.  First things first.  He needed to talk to Melissa Anderson himself.  Kurt refused to be the cause of a division between Blaine and his mother.  He absolutely refused.  It was not going to happen.

There was, of course, no way in hell Blaine or anyone else would agree with Kurt’s doing so.  Honestly, Kurt sometimes thought he needed to step up the bitch act or something, just so people would realize he could take care of himself.  He had for a very long time, after all.  Taken care of his father, too, since his dad was pretty hopeless at taking care of the house or cooking, things like that.

His father’s overprotectiveness he could understand, even appreciate.  Carole was sweet enough about it that it didn’t really bother him, and even though Finn sometimes annoyed him since after all, where was he when Kurt was getting shoved into lockers and terrorized by neanderthals?  Finn tried so hard to be a good brother (“Step-brother, Finn.”  “Yeah!  So we’re brothers now.”  “ Step -brothers, Finn.” “Should we, like, be fighting over the TV remote and stuff?  Since we’re brothers and all?” “ Step- never mind, Finn.”) that it was impossible to get too angry with him.

Blaine irritated him, though.  Not that Blaine wanted to protect him, Kurt understood that.  He felt the same way.  What irritated Kurt was that Blaine seemed to think Kurt  needed to be protected.  He was getting better about it, but Blaine still sometimes treated Kurt as if just because Kurt was a year younger that he needed to be taken care of.  Some of that, Kurt knew, was because of how messed up he’d been when they first met.  He  had been fragile then, so close to breaking, and he could understand how Blaine might’ve internalized that idea without ever even realizing it.  Some of it, too, came from his upbringing.  Blaine was used to always getting his way.  He was used to being in charge, to being the one his peers looked to for instruction and answers.

Kurt wasn’t about to put up with being treated as less than an equal.  Not from anyone, least of all his boyfriend.  And Blaine knew that.  He was learning to treat Kurt as an equal, slowly.  Kurt tried to be patient with him, because he knew Blaine was trying.  Blaine had never even realized what he’d been doing until Kurt sat him down to ream him out about it.  Kurt knew Blaine  thought of them as equals; he just didn’t always act like he did.

So Blaine would do something stupid and infuriating like forbid Kurt to go talk to his mother if he knew that’s what Kurt had planned.  And then Kurt would have to have a fight with Blaine on top of the fight with Blaine’s mother, and honestly, that was stressful enough already.  Discretion being the better part of valor and all that, Kurt thought it’d be easier just to sneak off later.

Kurt wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say to Blaine’s mother.  Blaine seemed to think that she’d been ridiculous and completely out of line, but over the last year, Kurt had come to realize that Blaine’s idea of reality was sometimes somewhat skewed, particularly when it came to his family’s business.  It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she’d been, in her own way, trying to be helpful. Melissa had never been cruel to Kurt before, not the way she had been the day before.  Oh, she’d been snide occasionally, and sometimes sharp when she felt it was warranted during their lessons, but never cruel.  She’d always been pretty agreeable, actually, if distant for the most part.  She had a slightly wicked sense of humor which Kurt appreciated.  And she seemed to delight in occasionally giving Kurt ammunition against Blaine in the form of baby pictures and stories of embarrassing childhood mishaps.

Her unusual coldness had made the entire thing even worse.  Kurt had been all too happy to believe Blaine the night before when he’d called his mother crazy, but the more Kurt thought about it, now that he’d slept and was more rational, the more he suspected that there was at least some truth to what Melissa had told him.

Which was something else Kurt couldn’t think about right now.  First he needed to fix his boyfriend’s relationship with his mother before it became irreparable.

Then, if Melissa had been telling the truth, well, then he could panic about that.  Kurt already knew, though, that as much as the thought of what exactly it was the Andersons did horrified him, he was already in too deep.  Blaine was everything.  Kurt could never give him up, not willingly.  He’d tried before, briefly, when he’d first realized the truth about the Anderson family business, and again when he realized that Blaine was the reason Karofsky had disappeared for three weeks before resurfacing comatose two states over.

He couldn’t do it then, and he wouldn’t be able to do it now.  It scared him sometimes, just how much he loved Blaine.  Kurt had told Blaine and Melisa both that he wouldn’t be able to kill someone, not even to protect Blaine, but the thing that had truly scared him, made him scrub the floors until he couldn’t see straight or stand on his own, made him practically a mental case, was that deep down, Kurt wasn’t sure that was true.  What terrified Kurt more than anything else was that maybe, just  maybe , to protect Blaine, he  would be able to kill someone.  

What kind of person did  that make him?

[PART TWENTY](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34408.html)   



	20. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART TWENTY

  


[PART NINETEEN](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34204.html)

 

The sound of the shower shutting off distracted Kurt from his thoughts.

Blaine came out of the bathroom, towel drying his hair.  Kurt was distracted by the other towel his boyfriend had wrapped low around his hips.  It looked like it might fall off of its own accord any moment, if Kurt just stared at it long enough.  Blaine looked up at him and from the smirk he gave, Kurt knew Blaine knew exactly what Kurt was thinking about.

"See something you like?" his boyfriend teased.

Kurt opened his mouth to flirt back, but suddenly Blaine was in his space and Kurt's mouth went dry; he couldn't speak.  Blaine's hands were on his hips and they were gripping tightly enough that the pressure should have been uncomfortable.  Blaine's eyes were searching Kurt's face--for what, Kurt didn't know--and his fingers shifted just a little and pressed down and oh!  It was exactly where Blaine had held him down earlier, and it must have bruised, because it  hurt  and Kurt couldn't help it; he moaned.  His goddamn boyfriend smirked again, that smug knowing smile that made Kurt want to smack him silly.  Kurt tried to twist out of Blaine's hold, but his boyfriend wouldn't let him pull away.

Blaine knew he needed to force this issue now, before Kurt had the chance to lock it away in his own head and force it down where he didn't have to think about it.  "I told you, baby.  We need to talk." 

He could see the panic flash across Kurt's face, and that was almost enough to make him relent--he hated to see Kurt look so scared.  Almost enough, but not quite.  Blaine somehow knew that this was too important for him to just let it go.  "I know you like this," he pressed, wincing a little internally at the utter distress twisting across Kurt's face.  "It's okay, Kurt," Blaine tried to reassure him.  "Really, baby, it's okay.  I promise."

Kurt shook his head wildly.  "No, it's--I need to shower, Blaine."  He again tried to pull away, but Blaine didn't let him go.  Kurt hadn't yet said to stop or asked Blaine to let go, and Blaine was pretty sure that meant that Kurt knew too that they needed to talk about this, no matter how much he didn't want to.  Perhaps it was easier for him, if he had the illusion of having no choice in the matter.

"We're talking about this," Blaine said again, and this time he made sure his tone made it clear that there was no getting out of this.  Sure enough, Kurt relaxed into his hold, a defeated look on his face, but Blaine could see a hint of relief behind the defeat.  Kurt might not even realize it himself, but somewhere inside, on a subconscious level, he must have recognized that this was what he needed.  

"Why, Blaine?  Why do we have to talk about --  it ?"

Kurt's voice was plaintive, and Blaine couldn't help but kiss his cheek in reassurance as he backed them up toward the bed.  This conversation would be easier if they were comfortable for it.  "Because, baby, I love you."

"What does that have to do with this?" Kurt demanded.

Blaine thought for a moment, trying to think how best to say what he knew somewhere deep down.  "Loving you means I want you to have everything you need, everything you want--I want you to be happy, baby, and that means during sex too."  Kurt's face went red, as Blaine knew it would.  He might not be the sex-afraid penguin anymore, but Kurt was not comfortable talking about anything to do with sex.  The few times they'd had phone sex had helped, Blaine thought, but Kurt still was absolutely mortified whenever Blaine tried to talk to him about it in person.  Which, actually...

Blaine coaxed Kurt to turn around and sit between Blaine's legs, facing the other direction. Maybe this would be easier if Kurt didn't have to look at him while they talked.  Kurt automatically relaxed back against Blaine, and Blaine tucked his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder, holding him close.  “You like it when I hold you down,” Blaine said, and he could feel Kurt tense up, but he went on anyway.  “And you like it when I tell you what to do.” He could feel Kurt getting ready to protest so Blaine squeezed him tightly in warning.  “You do, Kurt.  You like being good for me.  And that’s okay, baby.” Blaine wet his lips unconsciously.  “More than okay,” he said with a heated flashback to Kurt underneath him, so sexy and gorgeous and  his .  “I like taking care of you, baby; you know that.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” Kurt spit out, coiled up tightly like a snake about to pounce.

“No,” Blaine agreed.  “You don’t.  That’s what I like so much about it, Kurt.  You don’t  need  me to take care of you; you  let me take care of you.”  Blaine pressed another soft kiss to the underside of Kurt’s jaw.  “I—try to understand this, Kurt.  You—you’re so strong, the strongest person I know.  What you’ve done, the things you’ve survived—it’s amazing.   You’re amazing.  And I am so, so lucky to have you.  I don’t pretend to understand why,” Blaine admitted, “I don’t know what you could possibly see in me, but I’m so very glad you do.  And the fact that you  let me take care of you, that you trust me enough to let me do that—that’s amazing.”

Kurt didn’t say anything, but Blaine knew he was listening.  “And hot too,” he added, voice dropping a register.  “I don’t think you can possibly understand how fucking hot it is, feeling you underneath me, seeing you react like that.  I could see how good I was making you feel, baby, and that—God, you don’t even know how much that turns me on.  You’re always so in control, Kurt, and earlier, you  gave  that control to me.  I just—“ Blaine took a deep breath.  It was stuffy in the basement.  How had he never noticed that before?  “You trusted me, baby, and maybe it’s selfish of me, but I want this.  You were so into it, baby, even if you don’t want to admit it now, and I want to give you that.  I want to get to make you feel like that.  I want to get to take care of you, get to hold you down and love you the way you deserve, make you take it when you don’t think you can anymore and show you just how much you  can take.”  Kurt’s breath was shaky now.  “That’s what I want, Kurt.  I love you and I want this for you.  For both of us.”

“Blaine, I—“Kurt paused, and Blaine could practically hear Kurt shoving down the beginnings of hysteria.  “I can’t deal with this right now.  Please,” Kurt said, and Blaine could hear the plea in his voice.  “Not right now.  I can’t.  Not right now.”

Kurt felt Blaine’s slow nod against his cheek.  “Okay, baby,” his boyfriend said quietly.  “We’ve got time.  We’re going at your pace, Kurt; I’ve told you that before.  Just—think about it, okay?  Remember all I just said, and think about it.  Because this isn’t something we can just not talk about.  What we did -- what I did, last night, that wasn’t safe.  I should never have tied--”

“Blaine, please.”  Kurt could feel his breath catching and tried to keep calm, but Blaine, stupid Blaine just kept going.

“--you up like that, not without talking to you first.  I hope you understand how wrong of me it was to do that --

Kurt really, really did.  Everything that had happened the night before had been wrong.

“--not because I was holding you down, but because I didn’t make sure I had your consent,” Blaine finished.  “Do you understand what I’m saying, baby?”

No.

Kurt heard Blaine sigh again.  “Just think about it, Kurt.”

Kurt didn’t want to, he really didn’t; he didn’t think he could face it.  What Blaine had said had struck a chord somewhere deep down in Kurt, and that terrified him.  He hadn’t been able to handle it.  He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to handle it.  His mind skittered away from the topic of its own accord.  There was this instant, shameful sense of  wrong  that ran through him whenever he tried to think about it.  This couldn’t possibly be something he wanted.  It had been a mistake, a fluke; that was all.  Kurt just wanted them to forget about it and put it behind them and go back to kisses and romance and making love. Why did Blaine have to make everything so  difficult ?  Holding him down,  making  him listen, telling Kurt he’d been  good, so good, just perfect, baby, always so good for me and Kurt couldn’t stand it.  But Blaine was just asking him to think about it, and he was giving him time, and being patient—Blaine was always so patient—and how could Kurt refuse him this?  He nodded, reluctantly.  “Not now, though,” Kurt pleaded.  “I can’t -- not now.”

 

“Okay,” Blaine said quietly.  “Not now.  But later, okay?” 

“Okay.”  Kurt swallowed hard and forcefully pushed all thoughts of this (whatever it was) away.  “I really do need to take a shower.”  He did; he was disgusting right now.  He smelled like sex and sweat and he swore he could  feel himself breaking out just sitting there.

While Kurt was showering, he realized that Blaine would be expecting Kurt to try to talk to his mother.  While Kurt really did not want to start the fight that was sure to follow, he knew that he’d have to let Blaine in on the plan.

Kurt walked out of his second shower of the day wearing nothing but a towel, which got him a flatteringly heated look from his now dressed boyfriend.  “How about you, honey?” Kurt asked, cocking his head, hands on his hips.  “You see something  you like?”

Just as Blaine was about to pull down Kurt's towel, a knock came from the door to his room. Groaning softly, Kurt pulled away from Blaine and rolled his eyes. "Yes?" 

"Kurt? Can you come upstairs, sweetie?" Carole called, knocking again lightly. "Mercedes is here, she was worried about you not showing up at school today...I figured you would want to talk to her."

He sighed and nodded, making a face at Blaine. "Yeah, Carole, I'll be up in a second, I just got out of the shower. Let me get dressed; then I'll be up." He slid his hands through Blaine's hair quickly, smirking at him slightly. "Hold that thought, honey?"

Blaine groaned, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet slowly. "I'll hold that thought if you promise to hold something else later." He made his way over to Kurt's bed, flopping down and closing his eyes.

"Your hand? Of course I will," Kurt said, smiling at Blaine over his shoulder, as he got dressed. "Also, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you aren't going to take a nap. I need you and your mob boss skillfulness."

"Why do I have the feeling that whatever is about to happen is a very,  very  bad idea, Kurt?" Blaine asked, sitting up and watching his boyfriend closely. "Like, we're talking everything that Helena Bonham Carter has ever worn on the red carpet levels of bad..."

"You shut your mouth, Blaine!" Kurt gasped, wheeling around and pointing an accusing finger at him. "Helena is a genius. She's breaking the mold of what's considered appropriate clothing for black tie events!"

Blaine sighed, nodding dutifully. "Yes, dear. I'm terribly sorry. I'll never insult the fashion forward thinking of Helena Bonham Carter again as long as I live, so help me Gaga," he deadpanned, smirking at Kurt playfully as he finished.

"Lose the sarcasm and you're almost forgiven," Kurt said, fussing with his hair for a second before turning around and kissing Blaine playfully. "Now, down to business: In half an hour, you're going to come upstairs and tell me that my phone is ringing. While I come downstairs to "answer my phone", you will be upstairs, charming the pants off of my mother and best friend. Understood?"

"Understood, all except for one thing...Why?" Blaine asked, tilting his head and looking at Kurt in confusion.

"Well, how else do you expect me to be able to sneak out of the house, Blaine?"

The ensuing fight was just as loud and large and terrible as Kurt had expected it to be.

By the end of it, the entire household was involved, with Kurt's father slightly red in the face and Mercedes looking at Kurt with her patented "hell to the no" expression.

Kurt had been expecting it, but still, it was annoying.   Blaine made some truly infuriatingly condescending remarks that sounded very much like orders, and it took all of Kurt's self control to not absolutely eviscerate him for it. Blaine was upset; he should make allowances for that; and anyway he really did not have the time to fight with Blaine right now.  They  were going to talk about this later, though, because this was starting to become a pattern and not one Kurt liked.  He was  not some 1950s housewife, no matter how well he'd be able to pull off the Donna Reed look, and he wasn't a child either, and Blaine needed to stop treating him like one.  It might come from a place of caring, but really?  Just...no.

Kurt resisted, of course, since a quick capitulation would just rouse suspicion.  It was a delicate balancing act--he had to argue enough to make his eventual agreement worth anything, but not so much that they (meaning Blaine, since Kurt's family was reassuringly terrible at sensing duplicity, despite all the practice with Kurt) would suspect it to be a sham.

Dinner was a stiff, quiet affair.  The silences echoed loudly in the spaces left behind by the argument.  Kurt was glad when he was finally able to excuse himself and go get ready for bed.  Blaine didn't want to go home; he was still ridiculously angry with his mother, and Kurt didn't blame him.  Kurt's dad said it would be fine for Blaine to spend the night again, but that he'd have to sleep on the couch this time.  Kurt knew Blaine would be cranky tomorrow from the backache it would give him, but Blaine seemed to think it was worth it.

Maybe it was.   Kurt certainly appreciated being woken with a kiss the next morning.  He could get used to this.

 

[PART TWENTY-ONE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34684.html)   



	21. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART TWENTY-ONE

[PART TWENTY](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34408.html)

Kurt put his plan into action during AP French.  He was the only student in the class, so it was basically a study period for him anyway, interspersed with essays and tests administered online.  Blaine was reassuringly occupied in calculus, and it was a good forty minutes until class change.  It was the perfect time.  

Anthony was watching, of course; he always was, but a bodyguard's job is to keep people away from their charge, not to keep their charge away from people.  He was patiently standing look-out in the hallway and walking the school's perimeter, looking for anything suspicious.  Kurt had done this before, ditching his bodyguard, but always with Blaine, never by himself.  Blaine was an old pro at the job.  He'd been ditching Anthony since he was eleven.  (Anthony did not approve.)

Kurt didn't think  Blaine would approve of his ditching Anthony, overprotective jerk that he is.  Too bad.

He felt slightly bad as he pulled out of the McKinley parking lot, but having a policy of total honesty did not necessarily mean telling the other person  everything .  Right?

Loopholes.  Semantics.  All very important things.

***

The maid who answered the door took one look at Kurt and ushered him into the parlor.  Kurt was reasonably certain that she wasn’t just a maid, actually—he remembered her being in the background pretty much anytime he’d been with Melissa, so on reflection it was likely that she was Melissa’s bodyguard.  She didn’t look like a bodyguard, but then, Emma’s Miz Annabelle didn’t look like much of a bodyguard either, and Kurt had seen her hit an apple with a knife from a good thirty feet away.

Melissa was immaculately put-together, as always.  Usually Kurt appreciated her ability to make perfect outfits and control her expressions, but today he wished she was easier to read.  Blaine must  hate this side of his mother.

“So?” She said, lifting a gracefully arched eyebrow.  “Have you come to a decision?”

Kurt shook his head in disbelief.  “You do realize that your son is absolutely furious with you, right?”

Melissa’s face never changed.  “That’s his decision, Kurt.  This has nothing to do with him.”

“Are you serious?  This has nothing to do with him?”

“This is about  you ,” Melissa said sharply, and it was the first time Kurt had ever heard her raise her voice.  One of the lessons she’d given him had been about vocal control.   You should always be in control,  she had said.  The person in control never needs to raise their voice to be heard.  You should simply speak and expect people to listen.  If you believe, truly believe, that you are meant to be listened to, others will believe it as well.  Act as though you are in charge, and people will believe in your authority.

“What you said the other day—”  Kurt paused.  “Blaine said you were being ridiculous.”

“And what do you think?”

Kurt bit his lip.  “I want to believe him,” he said.  “But I know that sometimes he doesn’t quite  get things.  I want—no.  I  need to know the truth.  Those pictures…”

“Were of would-be assassins, as I told you.”

“There have been that many assassination attempts?” Kurt tried to keep his voice steady.

“No, of course not,” Melissa said.  Kurt wanted to be relieved, but he heard a catch coming.  “Those were only some of the attempts foiled by the current head of family’s wife.  Most hitmen don’t get that far, and of those that do, it’s still more likely that the head will manage to take care of it himself.”

“Blaine didn’t—”

“I doubt Blaine ever even thinks about it,” Melissa said, and her voice was gentler now.  “This is simply life for him, Kurt.  He’s always been an Anderson, always known what that meant for him and his.  Daniel is the same way.”

Kurt had known this was coming, in a way.  In the back of his mind, he’d been bleakly certain that Melissa had been telling the truth all along, but he’d  hoped …

“Do you know how old Blaine was the first time he was present at an execution?”

Kurt didn’t.  He didn’t think he wanted to know.

“He was nine.  I’d always forbidden it before, but Daniel said it was important.  That we couldn’t afford to look weak.  A cousin of Daniel’s tried to take over and Daniel caught him at it.  He had some following in the family, and Daniel had to put it down hard.  Daniel personally shot him, his wife, and his fifteen year old son.  And we watched.”

Oh,  God .

“My son was nine years old and I had him watch his father kill people he’d eaten Christmas dinner with the year before.”  Melissa’s voice was like ice now.  “Because that’s what you do as an Anderson.”

Kurt wanted to throw up, but he forcibly controlled his churning stomach, forcing away the nausea.  “He never told me.”

“He doesn’t even realize there’s anything to tell.  None of them do.”  Melissa had a far away look on her face again.  “This isn’t some fairytale, Kurt.  Love doesn’t conquer all and if you marry my son you’re not going to ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.  We're not ‘the good guys.’  We’re not even the ‘misunderstood but moral criminals.’  Do you understand that? Do you understand what it is the Andersons do?”

“You—” Kurt stopped.  He wasn’t sure he actually  did know.  Blaine always sort of skated around the topic.

“Blaine and his father toss the word ‘mob’ around like a joke, and so do others, but it’s not.  Daniel’s people do some terrible things.   Daniel  does some terrible things.  So will Blaine.  Can you deal with that?”  Melissa’s gaze cut through Kurt like shrapnel.  “There’s no shame in it if you can’t,” she added more softly.  “Sometimes I wish I had been strong enough to leave Daniel when I still could.”  Kurt felt dizzy at this admission.   

“What?” he asked helplessly.

Melissa looked unsure of herself.  It was a strange look on the woman, and it didn’t suit her.  “Blaine doesn’t know this, but I nearly left his father once.  Right after we were married.  I didn’t understand what it means to be an Anderson, and when I did—I ran.  It broke Daniel’s heart.”

“But you didn’t leave him,” Kurt said.  She was here, after all.

“I tried to.”

Kurt didn’t understand.

“Do you really think you can handle being an Anderson?” Melissa asked.  “Do you even understand what that means?”

Kurt didn’t, but he was starting to get a clearer picture.

“My son, my daughter, my husband — they were born into this. This is their birthright. This life? It’s all they’ve ever known.”  Melissa paused.  “You seem to be a nice boy, Kurt, and Blaine certainly seems enamored enough of you, but are you really certain you love my son enough to marry into the mob? Are you willing to give up being Kurt Hummel and become Kurt Anderson? Because if the answer to that is no, then it’s better for you to realize that now. It’ll hurt less in the long run, for both of you.”

 

[PART TWENTY-TWO](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/35050.html)   



	22. may I have the freedom to choose (and all the information to choose wisely) - PART TWENTY-TWO

[PART TWENTY-ONE](http://the-fabfather.livejournal.com/34684.html)

Blaine couldn’t breathe.  He chanced a look at his father, but Daniel Anderson looked as impassive as he did during business meets.  “Dad?”

His father shook his head silently, squeezing Blaine’s shoulder warningly.  Blaine obediently fell silent again, but he stared accusingly at his father.  What did his mom mean, she’d tried to leave his dad?  And what--

Blaine remembered his dad executing his cousin.  He’d thrown up afterwards, and cried, and he’d wanted his mother, he remembered that, but his dad had been the one to pick him up and clean his face, get him water and tell him that it was okay to be upset.   _Y_ ou can’t show it, Blaine, not in front of your people, but it’s okay to be upset.  Sometimes being the boss means having to make the hard decisions.  

Blaine’s gaze jerked away from his father’s as he heard Kurt’s voice falteringly reply to his mother.

“I -- I don’t know.  How am I supposed to know that?”

Blaine’s mother sounded unsympathetic.  “Just know,” she said.

***

“What kind of person does it make me if I  am okay with becoming an Anderson?” Kurt asked helplessly.  

Melissa looked as achingly haunted as Kurt felt.  She didn’t reply. 

“I can’t -- I can’t kill people,” Kurt said, trying to keep his voice steady.  “I  won’t kill people.”

Melissa just looked at him.

“But I can’t leave Blaine, either.  I--I love him.  I love him and I can’t--”

Kurt felt like he was in free fall, riding one of those horrendous roller coasters Finn favored at the amusement park.  “I love him,” he said again, quietly.  

“I know,” Melissa said gently.  “But do you love him enough to deal with the rest of it?”

Kurt closed his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to fall.  “You know the answer to that,” he managed to get out.

“I do,” Melissa agreed.  “But you needed to know too.”

“You’re still kind of a bitch,” Kurt said tightly.

“Occupational hazard.”

***

Blaine could hear Kurt’s involuntary snort of laughter from out in the hall.  He turned to his dad again.  His dad would know what to do, right?  His dad always knew what to do.

***

Daniel felt like he couldn’t breathe.  All these years, and he’d never even really thought about--

He pushed open the door and entered the room without consciously deciding to do so.  Blaine’s boyfriend jumped, but Malaya (gorgeous, controlled Malaya) only showed her startlement in the briefest frightened flicker of her eyes.

“Daniel,” She said calmly with a nod of greeting.

“I’m sorry.”  It wasn’t enough, Daniel knew.  It could never be enough.

Malaya smiled a sad, wry little smile.  “I forgave you long ago, Daniel.”

“I never knew-- I never thought--”

***

Blaine’s father was stammering (and holy fuck, Blaine had never seen his dad trip over his words like that before) and everything he said was just what Blaine was thinking and--

“Stop overthinking it and kiss me, you idiot,” Kurt said, voice still raw from emotion.  And Blaine did.  What else could he do?  They could deal with the fallout later.  Right now, this was what was important.   Kurt was what was important.

“I love you,” Blaine whispered into the kiss.

“I know,” Kurt said in return.  Pulling back slightly, he smiled crookedly, self-deprecatingly.  “I didn’t think I’d love you so much, but I guess that I thought wrong.”

“I didn’t mean to--”

“Blaine.”

Blaine huffed a sigh.  “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to convey everything he felt with those two tiny, completely useless words.

Kurt shook his head, biting his lip.  “Don’t be,” he said.

Blaine didn’t understand.

Kurt picked up Blaine’s hand and kissed his boyfriend right where he would one day wear a wedding band.  “It’s worth it,” he said simply.  “You’re worth it.”  He paused for a moment.  “I already told you, Blaine.  I’m never saying goodbye to you.”

 

 

THE END, MOTHERFUCKERS

MAYBE.  IDK.   



End file.
